Jessica's Change Management Ch. 28

BALL!

Oh wow! A murmur went through the cunt-sulting crew. Clark had tossed the first pitch and missed whatever target he had set his sights on. More importantly, though, I noticed two things. First, he had used a foam ball, so the egg toss was officially over. Second, the ball had flown past the stage, so my body wasn't the strike zone any longer. Not another gross impact. Oh yay! No spectacle yet. Oh nay!

I must confess that I had never seen a water tank booth or a similar game before, neither at a fair nor a festival. That was why I wasn't familiar with the way it worked. The fact that I didn't know the rules made me as nervous as excited, 'cause I had no clue what was in store for me. The lack of knowledge reignited my bouncy breeziness and scandalized stir, which made my cunny throb harder than ever. Consequently, I displayed my contrasting emotions by snapping my right fingers in a super snappy sign while twirling my bottle blonde tresses with my left fingers in an ultra innocent gesture. What a contradiction! What a discrepancy!

After that first toss, the tough trio let me twist and turn for quite some time until I felt like my dance routine was getting stale. Remember? I was still eager to prove my worth as a bimbo bunny. I was just as eager to make this a super slut show to hog the spotlight. That was why I made a change. Turning around, I went with a true-and-tested formula, as in twerking.

BALL!

Oh wow! Another murmur went through the cunt-sultant crew. The moment I had turned around, Damon had taken his shot. Contrary to his boasts about his quarterbacking skills, though, he had missed. What a phony poser! Whatever! Another miss automatically meant unknown rules, which kept my clitty abuzz. Likewise, my gushy glee remained at full blast, just as my overblown outrage. Precisely why I made another sassy snapping gesture with my left fingers. Looking over my shoulder, I also crooked my right forefinger in an inviting motion. What a contrast! What a dichotomy!

No matter what, I kept my back to the crowd. Bending my knees, I squatted down and stuck my ass out. Placing my hands on my knees, I began moving my bootilicious butt up and down until my ass flesh wobbled massively. What a booty shake! What a twerking tease!

STRIKE!

Oh boy! A brazen, metallic sound announced that a target had been hit. Finally, it had happened! Finally, I was about to learn the rules! Of course, it had been Lambert who had proven his pitching skills once more. Just when I had gotten into my twerking groove! Oh gulp! Something was about to happen. Oh gasp! I had no clue what it would be.

SHOCKER! STUNNER!

Remember those round metal discs around the stage? Apparently, the old sleazebag had hit a lower target on my left side. Obviously, it activated some kinda squirt gun. Evidently, some sorta liquid sprayed out and splashed all over my twerking booty. Super cold! Super chill! Kinda refreshing! Kinda welcome!

But wait! The liquid felt super sticky. It so wasn't water!

"Oh, did Ortega forget to tell you, Miss Addams?" Lambert asked sounding extra self-complacent. "One of our former interns rigged up the booths. As a reward, he was allowed to fill those squirt guns with his piss. Hehehe!"

Oh my god! Oh my gosh!! Oh my gawd!!!

Totally refreshing... not! Totally welcome... not! As a response, my entire body twitched in disgust while my skin got covered with crawlies. Super gross! Super yuck! No way did I want another pissload on my body, so I quickly turned around to get outta the way. Facing the crowd, I noticed that my former besties had rejoined the cunt-sulting crew. The two business ladies were watching the action while giving their trademark mean comments. Uh-oh!

Luckily, it was Clark's turn who wasn't any better at pitching than Eric. Phew! Surprisingly, Damon had lost his mojo and missed too. Phew! Phew! Even Lambert's second toss missed its target. So weird! So strange! So much so that I became suspicious. Apparently, my former co-workers had zeroed in on a specific target. That didn't bode well...

STRIKE!

"Umph!" I groaned when Clark's second throw hit a target.

Even though he hit the metal disc below the platform, it didn't have an immediate effect. For a second, I held my breath, but nothing happened. Fortunately, it hadn't activated another squirt gun. Fortunately, I hadn't gotten doused with another piss salvo. Oh yay! Oh nay! Another second later, the mechanism kicked in. Even if it happened late, it occurred with a vengeance.

STUNNER! SHOCKER!

What happened? The platform collapsed!

"Ooohhh!" I shrieked in surprise.

Caught off guard, I tumbled down. All I could do was to shriek and screech. It happened way too fast for me to react and grab a hold of anything, so I fell right into the tank underneath the platform. Oh Lordy! With my arms flailing, I basically fell backwards. As a consequence, I didn't dip into the tank feet first, but plunged down on my ass.

"Ahahaha! Hihihi! Hehehe!" Rounds of roaring laughter accompanied my fall.

Oh my god! My ex-colleagues laughed their asses off. No surprise there. Oh my gosh! They got joined by my fellow business ladies who were dissolving into the meanest snickering ever. Not really a surprise either. Oh my gawd! A buncha society men had come on board and dropped their stately restraint. More attention but also more ridicule! Ya-nay!

While the demeaning cackling rung in my ears, my body got dunked into the water. Lucky me, the tank wasn't really deep, so I ended up with my head and legs sticking out while the rest of my body got drowned in the water neck deep.

But wait! It didn't feel like water either. As if!

HORROR OF HORRORS!

This time round, I didn't need Lambert to explain the liquid. The substance was thick and gooey yet runny. It had a consistency somewhere between paint and custard. That way, it totally reminded me of some old television show where contestants had gotten covered in gunge. Ultra gross! Ultra yuck!

DOOM and GLOOM!

Unlucky me! The mass of gunge was way stickier and slimier than the piss. The mass of slime was way stickier and slimier than the yolk. It was giving me way more crawlies and heebie-jeebies. It was feeling way more degrading and humiliating. Lucky me! It was also getting me more attention. It was distracting the inner circle more than ever. It was causing more cheer and jeers than before. Ya-nay!

The combination of utter debasement and ultra disgust was totally shocking, so much so that it made my coochie leak. For this reason, I remained longer in the tank than necessary. On the contrary, I inadvertently prolonged the time by flailing about and kicking my legs. The way, my arms splashed around in the gunge must have looked super cheery while the kicking must have appeared totally outraged. What a contrast! What a dichotomy!

Of course, that silly display of contrasting emotions only increased the roars of laughter. Tihi! Of course, it turned out kinda difficult to get outta the tank 'cause slippery when wet, which increased the cheers and jeers that much more. Do tell! Of course, my hands slipped off the edge of the tank several times, making me tumble back into the slimy gunge, which gave my audience repeated fits of laughter. Duh!

"You know, the ducking stool was a form of women's punishment for prostitution back in medieval times. Quite fitting, don't you agree?" Lambert enlightened us with some idle knowledge.

Oh boy! What an analogy! What a shame! By all means, the sarcastic remark made it clear that the newly appointed team leader only considered me a random whore instead of a former colleague. So demeaning! So devaluing! At least, the senior consultant lent me a hand to help me outta the tank. Almost chivalrous! Almost gallantly! Almost...

In the meantime, Clark got the platform back into position with a push of a button. Due to this, I didn't get a chance to catch a breath. Instead, the cunt-sulting crew quickly hurried me back onto the stage without giving me a chance to clean up. Un-fudging-believable! I had to resume my striptease although the yukky gunge was still sticking to my body and dripping off my ass oh-so-slowly. I had to dance in fronta of the local high society with thick, slimy gunge coating my ass and crotch like glue. Urgh!

Anyways, by now, I had figured out that each player had three throws to win the game, so the tough trio wasn't done. Right now, Lambert and Clark were in the lead, so I was all in support of continuing the game. After all, the senior consultants were the last dudes I wanted to cash in on whatever prize was included in winning the game. Umph!

Really slowly, I got back into my dance routine although I didn't bust out any typical stripper moves. Instead of sliding over the stage super sexily, I was more like trembling and fidgeting about as I was trying to shake off the icky gunge. The upside? I was reducing the feeling of disgust. The downside? I was an easier target. Shoot!

STRIKE!

Consequently, it didn't take long for Damon to follow Clark's example and score his first hit. This time, the platform didn't move. Phew! The 'funbag boy' had hit the upper target on my right side, so what happened? Another squirt gun shot its load! Duh! This time, it was aimed right at my bulging beef balloons. As I was still wriggling and fidgeting on the spot, the liquid hit the bullseye, as in splashing all over my fabulous fakebag.

"Uuuhhh!" I yelped.

Holy moly! The smell instantly revealed it to be another pissload. So rank! So rancid! At least, the jammy yolk was getting washed off. Holy cannoli! My extra expensive, extrawhordinary endowments were getting drenched in vile pee. I so hadn't spent that much money for that kinda use. No way! I so hadn't inflated my ravishing rack for it to be a better piss target. As if!

In any case, the degrading action kept my emotional pendulum spinning, which resulted in another hybrid expression. With my mouth turned into a resting trout pout from all the sulking, I clapped my hands to applaud the accuracy. What a contradiction! What a discrepancy!

Gross or not, I desperately wanted one of my former team members to win over the senior consultants. That was a good reason why I needed to be grateful about this strike, kinda, sorta, whatever. All the same, it gave me enough of a motivational boost to get my ass moving, as in gyrate my hips and glide over the stage super sexily.

With the score tied, however, Lambert was just as motivated as me. That was why he waited until I tired and stopped my hectic motions. Smart move! Cause my feet were already hurting from the sky-high platform ankle boots, so much so that I eventually had to drop to my knees. Getting on all fours, I intended to keep moving my upper body in snake-like motions so my boobastic boobies stayed outta the target zone. However, the next toss hit before I ever got a chance to start.

STRIKE!

Another throw, another hit! Shoot!

"Uuuhhh!" I shrieked anew.

Another exit from the stage, another downward spiral. Fudge!

"Ewww!" I screeched louder than ever.

The new team leader had recovered his aim and hit a target, which was the metal disc below the stage. In response, the platform collapsed for a second time. Just when I had gotten on all fours to bounce my monster melons. In this position, I didn't go down with my booty first. Instead, my jumbo juggs got drowned in the gunge while I barely managed to keep my head outta the slimeload.

"Ahahaha! Hihihi! Hehehe!" Roars of laughter filled the air when I twitched and jerked from revolt. "Ahahaha! Hihihi! Hehehe!"

Holy fudge! I so didn't know how to feel. On the one hand, I was getting that yukky piss rinsed off my fat, fake funbags. On the other hand, I was trading an icky liquid with slimy gunge. Once again, not what I had intended with my investment. What a loss-loss situation!

The only positive aspect? The ducking stool punishment was a hit with the cultured crowd as it brought over more guests from the tent. I was really turning into a carnival attraction here. Ya-nay! Still, my body trembled epically, to the effect that I repeatedly dunked my titterrific titties into the slimeload. Once more, I inadvertently made sure to give my audience reason for sustained laughter. Uh-oh!

Eventually, Damon stepped up to the stage and helped me outta the tank, albeit way less chivalrous. Apparently, my former co-workers were really impatient to get on with the game. Un-fucking-believable! I had to resume my striptease although the yukky gunge was sticking to my plumped plush pillows and dripping off my jumbo juggs oh-so-slowly. I had to dance in fronta of the local high society with thick, slimy gunge coating my ravishing rack like glue. Urrrgh!

At least, the tough trio was so kind to give me some time to bounce my boobies and shake my booty for the new spectators. After all, the power players hadn't seen my sexy stripper skills and extra expensive, extrawhordinary endowments yet. Tihi! All along, however, the high society members focused more on debating which target to hit next. Worse, they did it in the most taunting way ever. Holy moly!

Despite all the presumption, I tried to focus on my stripper moves. After a while, however, I was really losing my wind. Holy cannoli! To catch a breath, I returned to a position on all fours facing the crowd, so I could shake and bounce my bulging beef balloons and fat, fleshy fanny at the same time. Uh-oh!

STRIKE!

Eventually, Clark took his chance and landed another strike. He hit the lower target on my left side. Remember the squirt guns filled with piss? As it was a low target, the pee splashed out accordingly. Remember my position? As I was on all fours facing the crowd, the pee splashed right into my face! As I was panting from exhaustion, some of the vile liquid sprayed into my open mouth. Mega gross! Mega yuck!

"Ahahaha! Hihihi! Hehehe!" Ladies and gentlemen laughed in unison.

"Uuuhhh! Ugh ugh! Uuuhhh!" I gagged and mewled all by myself.

Gosh! I was back on my feet so super quick, 'cause self-explanatory, right? After all, I didn't want another load of piss in my face. As if! No matter what, the dudes let me dance extensively to make it worthwhile for the high-class audience. That was why I turned around and twerked for a coupla minutes. I was just getting in the rhythm when Damon threw the next ball.

STRIKE!

For fudge's sake! Had all consultants turned into pro pitchers or what? Wasn't anybody missing the targets anymore? Damn it!

Lucky me, the consequences didn't make me shriek or screech this time. Why? Cause the platform didn't collapse, neither did a squirt gun shoot some piss at me. Instead, nothing happened, like not a thing at all. That was why I stopped dancing and waited in confusion. So odd! So puzzling!

SHOCKER! STUNNER!

Eventually, I heard a rumbling noise. The sound grew louder and louder. It was coming from above. All baffled, I looked up to see what was causing the racket. What a mistake!

SPLASH!

"Uuuhhh! Uh god! Uuuhhh! Uh my gawd" I yelped.

My arms flailed and my feet scuttled while I whimpered frantically. Hopping around hysterically, I ended up facing the classy crowd. Ultra gross! Ultra yuck! Ultra what? The 'funbag boy' had hit the sixth target, which I had already forgotten about. Remember? It was the metallic disc above my head, which was connected to a bucket. Just when I had looked up to find the source of the noise, the bucket had flipped, and a sticky mass had dribbled out. Oh my gawd!

Unlucky me, the goo splashed right onto my face. It was a massive load, so much so that my head got totally doused with gross slime. That moment, I wished my darn moretta mask back 'cause it would have protected my face. Oh my gross!

"Ahahaha! Hihihi! Hehehe! Ahahaha! Hihihi! Hehehe!" The guests' laughter was louder than ever.

"Hehehe! You know what?" Lambert exclaimed in between laughter. "Ortega said, he let all the servers collect their sperm in that bucket. Hehehe!"

Oh no! Oh no, no, no! The slime had been bad, the piss had been worse, but this was the worsest ever. As quickly as fudge, I moved my head to look straight ahead and get my face outta the drop zone. Small problem? There was still more semen spilling outta the bucket. Consequently, the thick spunk dribbled onto the top of my head, coating my nicely dyed 'do and slowly seeping down my two-tone hair.

Holy smokes! It literally felt like syrup. Ew! It literally looked like a spunk shower. Eww! I literally appeared like a drowned rat. Ewww!

"Fucking awesome! Look at the mass!" Damon exclaimed in disbelief. "I bet, the boss had the new interns leave their loads in the bucket, too!"

"Sweet jeezus! Look at the mess!" Clark chimed in. "What a slimewave. It's, like, drowning the bitch!"

"Then it's a good thing our botox barbie got that boob job, isn't it? With those airbags, Miss Bolt-on's never gonna drown." Melissa chimed in.

Holy moly! What a dumb blonde joke! It definitely gave the high-class crowd a fresh burst of laughter. Holy cannoli! What an element of truth! It was an incredible amount of thick, gooey spunk that was gushing over my head like a tidal wave. My head and face and hair were totally getting soaked in jizz. Not to forget that my titterrific titties and bootylicious butt and cute crotch were already coated with slimy gunge. All in all, I was beyond wet and messy. Wam bam!

Holy shoot! Even my eyes were getting plastered shut. As I couldn't see anything, I had no clue what was happening around me. That totally cranked up my contrasting emotions. All along, my bouncy breeziness and diva drama reached new heights. In response, I hopped around with my boobies bouncing gleefully while I clenched my fists angrily. Holy fudge! It must have looked like I had stuck my head into a bucket of spackling filler. It felt so ultra sticky and extra slimy. As if I could never wash it outta my hair before my fresh new dyejob was totally gone. Wam damn!

"Well, well, Miss Addams!" Lambert addressed me with my real name, which made the degrading situation that much more real.

"We still have a squirt gun left. What you say? You wanna use it to clean your face?" He asked me in the most devious way ever.

I knew that it would be a total hoot for my ex-colleagues to watch their former superior submit like that. I knew that they would have a ball watching their former manager beg for their piss. Super degrading! Super belittling!

Still, I knew that it was necessary. I also knew that I would do it. Why? Cause the wet and messy feeling was way too gross and way too yukky. I needed to get it off! In addition, it would be a supreme spectacle that was certain to keep everybody's attention. It would buy me more time!

That was why I nodded my cum-caked face despite a huge lump in my throat. That was why I leaned forward although my hair stood on end. Brazing myself, I got into position. Even if I couldn't see it, I vaguely remembered the height of the lower targets. Still, I had to gather all my courage to maintain the position.

BALL!

Another round of murmurs! A missed hit! Lambert hadn't managed a score, which I could only deduce from the sounds around me. A fact that made my heart leap into my throat. My nervousness and excitement were beyond all measures. Oh jeez!

BALL!

A second round of murmurs! A second miss! Clark had thrown a bad pitch, too. By now, I could hear my heartbeat like a telltale clock as I blindly waited for the inevitable. Oh sheesh!

BALL!

A round of ohs and ahs! A third no-throw! What the fudge was going on with the tough trio? The lack of sight was driving me frantic. Ignorance so wasn't bliss in this case. As a result, I couldn't hold still anymore, so much so that I skipped around on the spot, a motion that made my messed-up, gunge-caked jugganauts jiggle. That wasn't all, though. With my gushy glee and overblown outrage in overdrive, I perkily twirled my bottle blonde tresses with my right hand while shaking my left hand theatrically. Oh jeepers creepers!