Jessica's Change Management Ch. 20

--- Week 4 -- Friday Morning ---

I was still catching my breath after barely making it back to the train in time. I mean, my agitation was totally valid, what with all that razzle-dazzle that had been going on during the stopover. Remember? Matty and Fatty taking me behind that wooden shed to teach me the meaning of those porn stunt thingies like 'water sports' and 'a2m'. It had been kinda informative, but more like sexist, and mostly exciting. I mean, the old hillbilly vendor interrupting us, watching the action, and giving me a facial had been really shocking. By contrast, his young hillbilly son making me pay for the box of tissues with my mouth had been totally expectable.

No matter what, all that fuss paled in comparison to what happened on the train. I got stopped by my boss, Ortega. Obviously, he had been looking for me, as he had been seated in the first class. I bet he would have loved witnessing that trivia game thingie. Oh well!

Anyhow, he seemed more interested in my progress with that workshop exercise. Apparently, he didn't give his ass-istants that much credit for coming up with creative stuff in a short time. As if! Yet, he wasn't wrong about it, what with me having absolutely no idea to show for. He was really upset about that, which was a good thingie, 'cause he didn't even notice my disheveled appearance and mussed up uniform in his anger.

Oh! Remember my outfit? The totally chic and super sexy sky-blue stewardess uniform with broad golden trim along the edges and broad golden belt. Despite the fancy style, the smug exec didn't detect the tiny drool splashes around the big oval-shaped cut-out at breast height. He didn't notice the mud stains on my golden ankle boots with 5" stiletto heels either.

"That's inconvenient! Surrounded by idiocy, I have to say." The Latino exclaimed. "But frankly, what did I expect?"

Breaking news! Ortega called me some variation of stupid, which was totally innovative, especially during this train ride... not! Whatever! He quickly started questioning me about some gossip spreading through the train about a cheap porn skank that was causing a stir with some indecent behavior. Apparently, the first-class passengers were afraid of getting pestered with a repellent and off-putting scene. Of course, daddy suspected his head bimbo, I mean airhead bimbo.

Obviously, I did a pretty convincing job of playing clueless 'cause he stormed off to find Shelly and quiz her without deigning me another look. Whatever! The rest of the train ride, I was occupied with two thingies. The first one was totally logical. I used the washbowl in the train's toilet facility to clean my uniform and reapply my makeup. The second one figured, too. I was servicing Matty and Fatty by fetching drinks and snacks and stuff for them.

--- Week 4 -- Friday Noon ---

Without another incident, we eventually arrived at our destination. It was a city well known to me 'cause I had gone to college here, not that it mattered much nowadays. When I met up with Shelly and Ortega outside the station, the smug exec had already hailed a cab. This time, the taxi driver ogled us chicks extensively via the rear-view mirror. Finally! I would have been totally disappointed otherwise.

Not only that, I couldn't help but entice his attention. Leaning forward super wide, I let him peek into the oval cut-out all the way to my belly button. Putting my fresh manicure to awesome use, I ran the tip of my golden Leopard-print nails all the way up my right leg. When I reached the hem of my uniform, I used the super long tip like a slider to ruck up the skirt inch by inch until it reached the curve of my booty. Eventually, I fetched my lip enhancer from my clutch and plumped up my lips, earning a chuckle from the cab driver.

The drive was too short for me to really get going, though, 'cause we arrived at the hotel way too soon. Stepping outta the car, Ortega reminded us to put those long black coats back on to hide our 'idiotic outfits'. I guess he wanted his ass-istants to literally fly under the radar for starters.

Entering the building, I noticed that this wasn't just a run-off-the-mill hotel. No way! Instead, it was a super fancy, ultra high-class five star hotel. Gasp! However, I noticed another thingie. I still hadn't come up with a somewhat creative idea for my workshop. Gulp!

I mean, I had been way too busy during the train ride, hadn't I? The taxi journey had been another distraction. After all, I had been obliged to give the driver a bitching show... sorta. In the end, wiggling around to let him leer at my curves was way easier than pondering ideas. Duh!

Whatever! I still had no clue what kinda conference we were attending. I would wait and look pretty until I had gathered all the information. Then I would make a spontaneous decision, like making a totally well-informed choice. Really clever, girl!

Anyhow, the type of conference became clear super quickly. You wanna know why? Cause it looked like a meeting of some kinda service club in the hotel lobby. You know these ultra elitist old-boy-societies for the business and cultural establishment? Just picture super old men in über-expensive suits sitting in mega vintage wing chairs smoking ultra luxurious hand-rolled cigars. Totally like that!

Kinda stunned, Shelly and I processed the surprise scenery. Meanwhile, Ortega received a message from the reception desk. After reading the note, he told us that an unexpected development had occurred. Some kinda thingie that made it necessary for us to meet the conference manager for a chat first. That was why we were heading over to a conference room. There, daddy stopped before entering. Turning around, he gave his ass-istants a stern look before addressing us.

"I have to make one thing clear, I suppose." Ortega said sternly. "I need to insist on you acting in a decent manner."

"We have to make up for your failure of losing projects, I'm afraid." He addressed me directly. "This is our chance to gain new contracts indeed."

"I cannot have you screw up again, Miss Bimbo. More to the point, I cannot tolerate any bimbo talk. If I hear words such as 'literally' or 'like', I have to give a penalty point for the outplacement center, I'm afraid." He added menacingly.

Um... gulp! I mean, it totally made sense. After all, we had to secure new projects to make money and maintain a professional appearance in fronta potential clients. However, I so couldn't tell if I could promise a difficult thingie like that. For sure, I could try but it had kinda become my go-to-talk. As soon as Ortega opened the office door, though, all of that was forgotten. Why? Cause I knew the manager and he knew me!

Shocker!

What was more, I couldn't hide my surprise when I saw him. Not at all! I was ultra startled and über-staggered, so much so that I didn't know what to do, so much so that I made some unintentional displacement activity thingie. What exactly? I gave my bestest duckface, like I was about to shoot a selfie.

Stunner!

Oh, you wanna know who the dude was? It was Mr. Moore. Remember him? He was the committee chairman from my failed project pitch. He was the old man with a coil of gray hair who had been totally annoyed with me. Worse than that, he wasn't alone. Next to him stood Mr. Wilson. That was the fat middle-aged committee member who had dropped the cap of his pen to peak up my skirt. The worsest? The grouchy chairman was just as vexed with my current presence as he had been during the pitch. He gave me a stone cold, icy glance. Noticing my 'duckface look' didn't make it any better 'cause he shook his head in dismissal, which literally shook me to the bone. Uh-oh! Good thingie, I didn't say that loud 'cause literally. Duh!

Meanwhile, my brain felt like it was about to explode. We were going to a conference managed by the company where I had given my final presentation? The one where I had totally screwed up? The one where I had totally embarrassed myself and my consulting firm? Oh no! Oh no, no, no!

This couldn't be true! This couldn't be happening! I so didn't want to meet the project committee again, like ever. I so didn't want them to see me as the total office bimbo, like ever. But wait! Just moments ago, I had yearned to be treated like a total bimbo by every passenger on the train. Not only had I craved it, I had basically demanded it! More than that, I had totally indulged in it. So confusing! So complicated!

That had been a different situation, though. It had been a different group of people, too. Still, people and places shouldn't matter, right? A bimbo should always be nice and happy and pleasing to men whenever, wherever, whatsoever. Too confusing! Too complicated!

Wake-up call!

All confusion aside, running into the committee functioned like an alarm call. Suddenly, I felt like someone had poured a cold shower over my head that brought me down to earth. Suddenly, I felt extremely embarrassed about the ditzy, stupid bimbo way in which I had acted. Suddenly, I felt extremely eager to behave like my former professional self again.

"Oh Mr. Moore! What a surprise to meet you here." Ortega quickly addressed the old chairman while I was busy fighting my internal struggle. "I didn't expect to see you, I have to say. Mr. Wilson told me he was the conference chair this time."

"I'm sorry but I have to stop you right there, Mr. Ortega." Moore interrupted the Latino exec with a piqued voice. "That question shouldn't relate to me but to her."

"What is she doing here?" He asked pointing at me.

Oh wow! The way he said 'she' was a mixture of rejection, disgust, and reproach, so much so that it caused a shiver to run down my spine. In response, I forgot to act like a serious business woman. By default, I pouted even harder and turned my head to show off my cholaface in a better light. What was I thinking? Did I expect the committee chair to change his opinion by seeing how much I had dolled up myself? Of course, he didn't! Of course, his icy glare intensified. Silly girl!

"I do understand your concerns, Mr. Moore, but there's no need to worry." Ortega tried to assuage the chairman. "I can tell you, we arranged all the details with Mr. Wilson in advance to avoid any sort of misunderstandings. Miss Addams won't give a presentation or lead a workshop, I can assure you."

The Latino tried his best to allay Moore's suspicions and quieten his concerns. The way he talked about me and my previous performance, however, rubbed me the wrong way. He acted like I had made a great number of mistakes and botched the project. That wasn't true, though. Despite the failed project pitch, the change management process had been a complete success as we had reached all our objects. In a nutshell, the committee had disliked my presentation style and decided to go in a different direction. In spite of that, the men acted as if the pitch was all that mattered. So unfair!

"Doubtful! Our company has certain standards that need to be upheld." The chairman didn't seem convinced.

"However, I might condone that colossal affront if I receive a formal apology." Moore offered.

With that the three suits turned around and looked at me. On first impulse, I felt like pouting and posing again, but then I realized what they actually wanted me to do. They expected me to step up to the chairman and apologize. Oh woah! I seriously had to beg pardon from this old grouch for giving a bad project pitch. So absurd!

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I followed their implicit request anyway and walked over to them. Nervously, I shot a look at Ortega and saw him forming several silent words with his mouth: 'Decent behavior! No bimbo talk!'

"I'm sorry sir! I'm, like, a super dumb 'n drooling, totally brainless 'n babbling, desperately horny bimbo in heat who can only giggle 'n moan 'n cum 'n beg for more, like totes!" I said.

Fine! You got me. I didn't say that. As stated before, I wasn't that stupid, at least not in my current woken state. However, it was what I felt like saying at first. However, it was a thought that made my pussy throb.

"I owe an apology to you 'n your company, sir. Please excuse my offensive behavior." I said instead with a laser focus. "It was never my intention to hurt your feelings with my insensitive actions. I can't undo what I've done, but it will be my udder delight to help keep the standards on a high plane."

What a long-winded monologue! What an exhausting monologue! I really wasn't used to giving presentations or speeches anymore. Even though that much talking at a stretch had gotten straining, there had been no mistakes, right? But why was Moore wrinkling his brow then? Why was Ortega giving me a reproachful look?

"Indeed, I can only support Miss Addams' statement." The smug exec quickly affirmed me. "It will be our utter delight to provide quality workshops for you."

Now, I got it! My effort to cut out my bimbo talk had caused a slip of the tongue. Damn it!

"Tell me, Miss Addams, what is your role in these workshops?" Moore had only gotten more suspicious.

"I... um... um..." I could only stammer in response.

Jeez! My blooper had knocked me off my stride. I was becoming increasingly nervous and overanxious, which made me feel more and more bimboy.

"I realized I'm better at escorting than leading, Mr. Moore." I started all over.

Oh no! 'Escorting' really wasn't the proper word to use. I had just made another blooper! I had just aggravated my nervousness!

"I'm happy to assist Mr. Ortega at this cum-ference, Mr. Moore." I stated while trying to steady my voice and avoid emphasizing the 'ass' in ass-ist.

"My job is to make sure this is no cunt-est but a sex-cess." I hastily added, getting more nervous with every word. "It's my dick-tum to take dick-tation 'n dick-orate the training environment."

Oh my god! Had you noticed all the slips and bloopers? They had mounted with my rising nervousness and become too many to count. They were too obvious to obscure.

"I assume she's talking 'bout the double Ds of a business ass-istant." I noticed Wilson whispering to Ortega while turning away from his colleague as if the grouchy man wouldn't hear him like that.

What a sarcastic comment! What a sexist quip! I so wanted to respond to that insolence, but I would have only babbled away in my bimbo talk. I so wanted to keep up the straight talk, but it was really difficult. That was why I remained silent. That was why the apology wasn't going well. I was literally sinking like a stone here! Uh-oh! Literally! Again! Duh!

All these verbal slips caused Ortega to get red in the face whereas Moore was coughing all peeved and Wilson was grinning from ear to ear. Most of all, though, it was causing me to roll my eyes at my own stupidity. I was so out of practice and acted so inept. It was more than embarrassing. Even though my boss tried his best to save the situation, it was literally too little too late. Umph! Get a grip, girl!

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ortega." The chairman cut him short. "I cannot let Mrs. Addams meet our executives with clear conscience. We have a reputation to maintain. You have to give the executive workshop without your assistants' help."

With that said, he gave me a final look that was full of disdain, as if he was feeling sick from having to stay in the same room with me for so long. With his head held high, he walked out of the room. Oh shoot! In my woken state, I felt the pinch of embarrassment sharper than ever. I also felt the shame burning hotter than ever.

"Sorry man, really sorry!" Wilson told Ortega as soon as the chairman was gone. "I wasn't planning on the old man attending the conference. He's still the boss, though. It's his final conference before he's off to retirement, so I couldn't prevent it."

"Don't worry! He's only gonna be here for the executive meetings." The company man elaborated. "I booked the sales workshop at a different hotel. He won't go there 'cause that's beneath him."

"You gotta know, Moore likes to think of himself as the company's moral compass. The public face 'n all." Wilson elaborated. "What he doesn't know, won't hurt him, though. That's always been his maxim."

"Those reward workshops go on as planned." He concluded firmly. "They've taken place for years without his knowledge. We're still a sales company after all. Sales rewards aren't exactly new for us. Actually, they're the backbone of our business model."

"Let's do it like this." He quickly suggested. "We can have Moore give his grant speech to the executives to close the yearly accounts while you moderate the executive meeting. Meanwhile, you send your assistants over to the hotel to meet 'n greet our salesmen when they arrive. That way, everybody's got a job to do 'n everybody's happy."

Okay! That sounded like a plan, a well thought out plan at that. At least, for my understanding. Ortega, however, seemed hesitant. He probably didn't trust his ass-istants to keep to themselves for more than a couple minutes, which seemed justified to some degree. Still, our boss didn't have any better ideas, so he eventually agreed. He didn't dismiss his bimbos that easily, though. Instead, he reminded us that the conference had officially begun already. As a result, our out-please-ment center had kicked off as well.

"Miss Trophy kept her mouth shut 'n managed to look somewhat like a competent ass-istant, I have to say." Ortega stated when stopping in front of her.

"Miss Bimbo, on the other hand, somehow managed to sound dumber than her usual airhead self, I'm afraid. Howsoever she accomplished that." He growled.

Ouch! Considering my woken state, that really hurt. Of course, he didn't appreciate my bloopers. However, I was a lot angrier with myself than with my boss, 'cause I had tried my best to sound business-like and totally failed.

"As a result, Miss Trophy earns her first point." The exec concluded. "Miss Bimbo, on the other hand, gets a penalty point, indeed."

Shocker!... not.

Damn it! I had already screwed up the start of the contest. I was trailing in the competition from the get-go. I had to race to catch up and mount a comeback. Shoot! The fact that Blondie had won the point by doing nothing was even worse. After all, I had gotten interrogated by the conference chair whereas she hadn't gotten grilled at all.

"Earning a point also means earning a reward, indeed." Ortega added.

Goddamn it! Cheating to win a point was unfair already! Getting rewarded for it was even more unfair! I felt wronged, so much so that I wanted to pout theatrically and stomp my foot dramatically. I didn't do it, though, 'cause I didn't want to look even more like a ditzy bimbo doll. Our boss didn't give a fudge anyway. Instead, he surprised me by stepping up to Shelly and grabbing her right hand.

Surprise! Surprise!

Something awesome happened! At least for Shelly, 'cause Ortega slipped a ring over her right index finger. It was a broad gold ring with granulation. Totally glitzy! Totally glammy! OMG! It totally made me forget about my business woman act. Cause jealous! Cause bimboy!

Could you believe it? Blondie got some jewelry as reward. The perfect bimbo gift! I so wanted to appear business-like and professional, but my jealousy grew with every second that I looked at the gold ring. Eventually, it got the better of me and I started pouting, almost jumping at Blondie to pull that ring off her finger. I mean, it suited me better anyway, what with my golden nail piercings and nail chains being perfect matches to the ring.

I didn't have to worry, though, 'cause daddy didn't leave me out either. With Moore gone, he let me drop the coat, so I could present my awesome stewardess uniform. Wilson whispered in admiration, which told me that it was a killer outfit. It also suppressed my professionalism, which made me act more bimboy. I mean, screw that business act and decent talk thingie. Oh yay! Oh nay! Ya-nay!
"Of course, earning a penalty point also means earning a punishment." Ortega stated matter-of-factly.

Stunner!... not.

Even though it wasn't much of a surprise, it didn't sound awesome. It wasn't awesome either, so much so that it functioned like an alarm call, wakening me up and dissipating my bimbo haze again. What it was? The smug exec had pulled a pair of scissors from his briefcase and cut a slit on each side of my sky-blue stewardess uniform. The cut went all the way up the skirt right up to my thighs, so much so that I had to move carefully to avoid showing off my full legs. Oh my gawd!

No matter what, the slutty makeover caused another whistle from Wilson. By contrast, it caused a barrage of whimpers from me! After all, I had just bought the outfit, and now it was getting shredded to pieces already. The bimbo reaction would have been to start crying about my dress getting ruined while smiling proudly about the male attention I was gaining by the makeover. My professional reaction, by contrast, was fearing the flesh-flashing. My actual reaction? I felt my heart beating in worry about the exposure while I shed a tear about the damage to my dress. What a crippling conflict!

Nonetheless, the fact remained that Shelly had earned a nice golden ring and I had earned a ruined dress. No matter my conflicting feelings, that result remained unfair! On top of that, it made me burn with shame from defeat and embarrassment from failure. What an emotional rollercoaster!

The humiliation didn't get any better when Ortega sent us bimbos away after handing his presentation case over to me. Even though we wore our coats on our way to the reception desk, we lit... we stood out like sore thumps when we had to pass all those fine gentlemen in their expensive suits smoking their high-priced cigars. Waiting in the lobby until our cab arrived, our flashy accessories and gaudy style were dead giveaways.

My emotional conflict only increased during the wait until it was overwhelming me. On the one hand, I was attracting a lot of attention. On the other hand, I was losing any kind of respect. For once, I was distinguishing myself. Yet, it was the worst moment for it 'cause I was too woke to enjoy it.

As soon as the cab arrived, the concierge ushered us out. Apparently, he shared everybody's opinion that we didn't belong in that fancy high-class place. The way, he treated us like second-rate guests made me feel so ashamed. Then again, it also made my pussy throb so hard.

The ambiguity was too unsettling, so much so that I had to straighten things out. I felt the need to find a way to prove my competence and show-off my skills. So what did I do? I dropped the coat as soon as I stood on the hotel driveway. Cheekily looking back over my shoulder, I noticed the concierge's eyes bulging and several old boys choking on their cigars when they saw my curvy booty in the tight uniform.

Oh fudge! I had striven to act professional and prove my abilities. And what had happened? I had demonstrated my bimbo skills instead of my consulting skills. I had done the exact opposite of what I had intended to do. Damn it!

My little show had another unintended effect. The cab driver got an awesome look at my long, tanned legs when I walked up to the cab 'cause fresh side cuts. Of course, I totally forgot the slits Ortega had cut into my uniform. Of course, the skirt opened up to the fullest when I took the first step.

"Oye, what are you in town for?" The cabbie asked as soon as we sat in the back of his taxi. "You escorts or pornstars?"

Oh jeez! That Indian driver had looked at us for about a split second, and instantly taken us for a pair of cheap hookers. What a bias! By the way, what about that sudden porn obsession? Did I really look and sound and act that porny? As if!

"No funny business in my cab! Clear?" The cabbie emphasized his point.

That reminder so wasn't necessary. After the debacle of trying to prove my skills, I was more clear-headed than ever. I also felt less in a teasing mode than ever. That was why I didn't even reply and simply gave the cab driver the address.

There wasn't any surprise happening during the drive. However, everything that happened after our arrival at the hotel was more than a surprise. Especially when we noticed our surroundings for the first time. We were standing in front of the local convention center. A huge banner hung above the entrance informing us about the current event: The Sexpo Adult Convention!

Oh wow! The cabbie had really taken us for pornstars and driven us to the adult exhibition! What an idiot! But wait! This was the correct address. The sexpo and the closing conference took place in the same hotel. What a coincidence... not!

On my way into the convention center, I had to pass a bunch of sexpo visitors who were standing around on the front yard. Whatever they were doing, they stopped it to focus on me. Lifting their cameras, they started taking photos of me, or more like of my awesome curves.

Oh shoot! They took me for a special guest. Here I was, walking a red carpet in a flurry of camera flashlights, attracting everybody's attention, and getting treated like a star. Yet, here I was, feeling the need to show my professionalism and prove my consulting skills. So ill-timed! So contradictory!

Oh, you want to know everything about the convention center to get the right picture, don't you? Okay! It wasn't one of those hyper modern, glazed highrises but a typical 80s style building. There were concrete walls and garish pattern floors everywhere. There was also gray plastic and muted mint green color popping up incessantly.

The building was basically divided into two parts with a large reception hall in the middle. On the right part, the hotel was located, which looked more like a cheap motel. The rooms were small and functional, opening to the parking lot to allow easy access to vehicles. The left part was taken up by the convention center with a large trade show floor on the ground level and conference rooms on the upper floors.

The show floor was where the adult convention was going on. Hot pink and neon colors all over the place! Can you say tacky and tawdry? On the first floor, the business men repping the adult companies used the conference rooms for meets and greets. And then there was the second floor. That was where the company's reward workshop was about to take place. Can you say gray and drab?

Anyhow, we didn't head over to the conference rooms straight away. Instead, we ran into Mr. Anderson at the reception. That was Wilson's bald, middle-aged buddy from the committee. Apparently, he was already waiting for us ass-istants, 'cause he instantly greeted us.

As I had lost my coat, he got treated to the sight of my tight uniform straight away. Of course, he was mostly interested in my cleavage. Actually, too much for my taste 'cause he looked more at my boobs than my face, which was extra annoying. Damn! Obviously, though, it was too much attention for Shelly's taste 'cause she finally followed suit and dropped her coat, too. Now, it was getting difficult for Anderson to decide where to peer harder -- the stewardess outfit or the schoolgirl uniform. The sexist!

"I see, Ortega managed to convey the spirit of our reward workshops." The bald dude told us with maximum audacity.

All right! No shit! Truth be told, that spirit was becoming clearer by the second. I mean, they had booked the annual closing conference at a location that was hosting an adult exhibition at the same time. They were calling the meetings reward workshops. How many hints did a person need? How much more on the nose could it get? No way, this would be a typical corporate training. Duh!

"You know, this is a tough business. It's hard to find the right incentives to motivate salesmen." Anderson explained. "That's why creative rewards are an essential strategy. I certainly hope you're ready to provide those creative ideas."

Oh, damn! That reminded me of the workshop exercise that I had to plan. I still wasn't anywhere near a creative idea. Gulp! Anyhow, there was still time before the workshop was about to begin. Too bad, Anderson had already arranged a schedule for us ass-istants.

First, he took us to our rooms, or more like he took Shelly there. As I was still carrying Ortega's presentation case, he made me wait at the reception before leading me to the conference room. To my surprise, the projector was already running, projecting a presentation onto the wall although the workshop wasn't about to begin in some time.

No matter what, I was mostly glad to get rid of that presentation case. After putting it down in a corner, I turned around, and instantly bumped into Anderson's chest. He was standing right behind me, uncomfortably close to be honest. He didn't plan on stepping aside, either.

Totally the opposite! He swiftly grabbed the golden hem of my sky-blue stewardess costume and pulled on it. So abruptly and so strongly, that the material didn't offer much resistance sliding down and exposing my tear-shaped fleshorbs. However, carrying the presentation case and standing in the workshop surroundings had only increased my professional attitude. As a result, I shrieked and crossed my arms to cover my funbags. Fortunately, the bald dude had closed the door, so nobody could see us. Phew!

Unmoved, the company man grabbed my wrists and swiped my arms out of the way. He acted as if it was the most normal thing to expose a business assistant's knockers in a meeting. He made it seem as if it was part of the formal welcome address. The misogynist!

"Oh honey, you graduated from undies to birthday suit. That might be called daring." He commented all noble-minded. "You sure about that decision?"

My mouth gaped open in outrage, which was kinda ridiculous given the path I had walked ever since that damned project pitch. Of course, I didn't wear a bra or thong 'cause bimbo. Duh! Anyhow, that notion totally contrasted with my current professional attitude.

Despite his noble demeanor, the company dude didn't really care about my feelings. Now, that my big natural breasts were fully exposed, he simply reached out with both hands and grabbed my soft tit flesh. Once again, he made it seem like the normalest thing to do for a company man to personally test an external consultant's assets.

All the same, he grasped my tit meat way too firmly for my taste, so much so that I winced equally from pain and surprise. Ouch! Truth be told, it wouldn't have taken much for Mr. Baldie to shout out 'Honka! Honka!' 'cause he was squeezing my honkers as tightly and energetically as a horn. Although, he probably would have said something more Oxford dictionary-ish.

"I've been waiting for this ever since you gave that project pitch, honey." Anderson stated.

"But look at yourself! Is nobody teaching a sense of elegance anymore? Your face just screams 'poke me'!" He said with a senior's concern for a juvenile while squeezing my tits even harder.

"My goodness! Nails all plastic, tan all fake, chains all tacky. Is that the youth fashion?" He listed my bimbo assets, giving my funbags a major squeeze for each and every one. "Has nobody told you that the tarty ponytail, trampy facelift, 'n balloon lips make you look like a harlot. Oh well, the sins of the youth."

Holy fudge! By now, my tits were bright red and stinging 'cause his grip was like a vise driving me to my knees. As a result, his fingers were painfully visible on my juicy juggs. More than that, however, I felt his way of mansplaining painfully affecting me. The way, he talked down to me like a seasoned veteran was totally misplaced, especially since he was barely ten years older than me. Misplaced or not, it still rekindled my bimbo flame. So preposterous! So grotesque!

I had gotten used to Ortega's swagger by now. Anderson's brand of arrogance was different, though. While the Latino acted all phony, the bald dude naturally behaved like some noble man. While my boss behaved hammy, the company man explained the world to stupid-little-me in a condescending and overconfident manner while claiming my body for his pleasure just like that.

"You remember that presentation, honey?" Anderson suddenly pointed to the slides projected onto the wall. "Why don't you give that project pitch another try? See if you can improve upon last time."

Holy shit! I had been too distracted by his rude tit squeezing to notice that it was my presentation.

"Ouch!" Another painful double squeeze prompted me to get going.

"All during that pitch, I felt like either putting you over my knee or bending you over to poke you to the ground." Anderson explained his impatience. "You certainly needed a lesson then 'n you certainly do now. Time to turn that vision into reality!"

Oh jeez! He wanted me to give the presentation like a serious consultant while he fucked me like a dumb bimbo. That was the last thing I wanted to do, what with me feeling maximum aversion and reluctance. Still, I couldn't deny that I also felt maximum excitement and arousal. Gulp!

"Ow! Ouch! Ow" I yelped anew when the company dude continued painfully squeezing my tit meat.

"Welcome, gentlemen!" I finally started my speech, although I couldn't muster any kinda fake enthusiasm.

"I'm glad I can be here today to shooouuuch... to show you the results of ouch... of our project 'n give youuuuhhh... give you a preview of the next steps that vooouuuch... that vouch for sustained success."

I tried my bestest to give a decent pitch but Anderson continued fiercely mauling my soft tits, so much so that it sent electric stings through my body that were equally arousing and excruciating. Mostly, though, they made me yelp and interrupted my talk. Glaring at Mr. Baldie, he lifted his hands off my boobs in an apologetical way as if he had been trying to help me.

OMG! This was so absurd and so farcical! Here I stood as a bimbo ass-istant with my big, ole funbags exposed trying to give a better presentation than last time when I had been a serious consultant in a respectable business dress. This was destined to fail! This was destined to put my mind in a bimbo haze!

"Congratulations, gentlemen! We successfully managed your cumpany's dick-addicted transwhoremation." I continued nonetheless.

Phew! This time, Anderson had stopped squeezing my boobs, so my speaking turn had gone uninterrupted. However, he hadn't stopped his distractions. Instead, he had pushed up the hem of my sky-blue skirt to fully reveal my ass and pussy. Without warning, he had shoved a finger straight up my cunt in mid-sentence.

"It seems to me that the transformation to a dick-addicted, cum-drunk whore was rather successful on your part, honey, if that was your goal." Mr. Baldie commented on my words.

Oh damn! It had happened again! With Anderson's distractions and my focus on avoiding my bimbo talk, I constantly tripped over my tongue and made sexual innuendoes. Damned Bimbo-me! The dude's finger up my snatch only made matters worse 'cause I inadvertently spread my legs and started humping the fleshy invader. Oh gosh! The bimbo haze was thickening even though I tried really hard to keep a clear head.

"For the digital transformation, we implanted whore strategiiieees... I mean four strategies!" I picked up my talk.

Right in the thick of my sentence, Mr. Baldie slipped two more fingers up my cunt, making me groan loudly. By now, my pussy was all juicy and wet, so it welcomed the stuffing. It coaxed a groan out of me and threw me off track, so much so that I boobed and instantly pulled another boner, like literally. Duh!

"We made a market anal-ysis, 'n oooh boy, performed value-generating twerk-shops to generate wins. Oooh wow! Us cunt-sultants identified key cum-petencies, 'n oooh man, built ho-alitions to sustain ass-eleration, like totes, fer shure." I listed our success factors.

While I started increasingly babbling like a total bimbo, Anderson kept busy driving his fingers in and out of my twat. Every time he pushed in deep, it made me groan in mid-sentence. He really wasn't going slowly, but super fast and furious. Not only that, he also crooked his middle finger, so it constantly pushed against my most precious spot. From the breakneck speed, slurpy sloppy noises erupted from my pussy.

"All those things, oooh baby, cunt-stitutet sex-cess in the long term. Ooohhh wow!" I finished my talk.

Even though I was blatantly groaning and moaning, I was mentally still on top of things. No way, I could tell for how much longer, though, 'cause physically, my arousal was starting to overpower me. I was clear-headed while edging and boobing, so much so that I couldn't enjoy the pleasure. The irony! The contrast!

Despite his grandeur, Anderson didn't seem to care 'cause he had way too much fun perverting my project pitch. That was why he continued upping the speed of his fingerbanging until I had to lean back and cling tightly to the desk behind me while I gave my presentation. It was such a degrading scenario that was made even more humiliating by the bald dude's noble manner. His mansplaining edged me on until I could barely finish my sentence, 'cause I felt like it might happen any second. My pussy was about to erupt! I was about to have a squirting orgasm! The pent-up tension and intense pleasure began overwhelming me!

I was getting desperate to keep a clear head. That was why I let go of the desk edge to pinch my nipples with the tips of my 'inelegant, harlot-ish' fake claws. Oh damn! What a sting! What a pain! There were too many concurrent sensations for me to handle. As a result, I lost control over my body. My knees buckled and wobbled, so much so that it floored me, like literally, 'cause I dropped to my knees. Not a second too soon, 'cause it prevented my orgasm... for now.

Mr. Baldie wasn't fazed with my new position. Not a bit gentlemanly, he pulled his raging hard-on from his pants. It was more than apparent that he enjoyed this bimbo version of my project pitch, so much so that he prompted me to continue.

"That's how I imagined the project pitch." He exclaimed. "What did I say, you can always learn a thing or two, no matter your age or position."

Oh wow! This dude seemed obsessed with this fantasy. For sure, I had made a lasting impression. For sure, I had given him sweet dreams. For sure, I had built-up his tension. Umph!

"Oh honey, we don't want to get lazy now." He quickly pushed me. "Your pitch's far from over."

Even though I winced in aversion, I started talking again. As soon as I opened my mouth, the company dude pressed his hard shaft against my right cheek and then my left cheek, like brushing my skin. Of course, that distracted me, making me stammer and babble more often than not.

Soon, he put his heavy balls on my chin. That way, his thick tool jutted right across my face up to my forehead. Mustering all my willpower, I continued citing scientific research from memory with a hard shaft residing on my nose. So absurd! So farcical! So disgraceful that it made me grunt in between. More than anything, it brought home the message that I wasn't a senior consultant anymore but a dumb bimbo doll. Gulp!

Probably in a way to motivate me and help me learn quicker, Anderson used his finger to flick his cockhead, making his dick bounce on my face, which intensified the humiliation ad infinitum. By now, I was whimpering from degradation in between my talking. Not that it mattered much. Why? Cause after a bunch of bounces, Mr. Baldie plunged his fleshy member into my mouth, which shut me up for good.

"Go on, honey! There's so much left to improve." The company man immediately chided me.

"Volatility... urgh... urgh... subject... urgh... urgh... frequent... urgh... urgh... change." I mumbled in between a barrage of heaves. "Uncertainty... urgh... urgh... cum-ponent... urgh... urgh...unpredictable."
The bald dude thrived on helping me learn, or more like making me gag by repeatedly driving his hard cock down my throat during my talking. It stoked my bimbo flame so much that I had to really fight to extinguish the blazing fire. Goddamnit! Consequently, I was mumbling and choking while babbling and gurgling. Mostly, though, I was splattering and gushing thick, bubbly drool all over my chin and boobs.

"Cum...assy..ty urgh... urgh... fact-whores... urgh... urgh... ass-ociated... urgh... urgh... cunt-fusion." He kept his thick tool down my throat for the entire time of my next sentence.

With my gullet blocked, all the mumbling was totally incomprehensible. With Consultant-me still in control, I was giving a smooth, crisp, and sophisticated speech again. Only now, it was getting skewed and perverted by the company man. In a cruel twist, it wouldn't have been less intelligible if I had given reigns to Bimbo-me. Gasp!

On top of making me mumble, the cock down my throat also made my throat muscle struggle and convulse against the hard shaft, so much so that I choked up a ton of saliva into my mouth by Anderson's dick. When the bald dude finally relieved my mouth from the fleshy invader, a torrent of drool splashed onto the ground where it formed a messy pool of slobber. Ew!

"Did I hear ass?" Mr. Baldie asked all hammy. "Honey, honey, honey! As much as you're talking about analyses 'n assistance, you're quite anal retentive. I can help you explore that fixation!"

Oh wow! He made it sound like he was doing me a favor here. So twisted! So perverted! No matter what, his cock was gone from my mouth sooner said than done. Just as quickly, his hand grasped my cholastyle high pony and pulled on it. In one swift motion, he turned me around and bent me forward while pushing my sky-blue uniform all the way up.

"Oh man! In times past, the birthday suit was considered indecent. Nowadays, it's all about looking brash 'n loud 'n slutty. Did nobody tell you that tramp stamps are trashy 'n tacky?" He scolded me for my red kiss tattoos.

To emphasize his point, he leant back against the desk and pulled me over to him. He was actually putting me over his knee as in his fantasy. Could you believe it? He actually gave several slaps to each pair of inked lips as if he was spanking a naughty brat. Could you imagine it?

"Honey, honey, honey! You still have to learn your limits, don't you? That looks like the definition of low-class hooker chic!" He chided me for my bow tattoos.

"Don't you know, like polls, these are only good for strippers." He continued giving me a good telling-off while adding a bunch of slaps to the ink on my back thighs.

Oh man! As a professional business woman, I should have stood up and given him a lecture about mansplaining and sexism. As a bimbo ditz, I should have giggled cheerfully. However, my reaction was something in between, as in whimpering from humiliation and moaning from misogyny although I didn't actually do anything else.

Besides, I had now been called a pornstar and a stripper in a minimum of time. My looks were really affecting people and the way they treated me. I didn't really know if I should laugh or cry about it, but I knew that it totally affected me one way or the other.

"Oh well, time to go to the next slide, honey!" Mr. Baldie continued when I didn't move or protest.

"Remember last time? You had problems using the presenter 'n I suspect you didn't improve in that regard." He announced with a nod to my golden Leopard-print porn claws with gold chains.

To illustrate his point, Anderson grabbed the presenter from the desk. With another grant gesture, he pulled on my high pony to lift my head and pushed the plastic laser pointer right into my cleavage, so that it got stuck in between my juicy juggs. After ordering me to keep it there, the company man dragged my head back down.

"The soon-to-be stripper might want to give it a shot 'n go to the next slide!" He instructed me next. "Maybe, your future still looks bright if you let me teach you, honey."

Gawd! The noble dude was humbling me by calling me a future stripper, yet he wanted me to continue acting like a serious consultant. He wanted me to keep giving the presentation while fucking me to the ground. He wanted to continue disgracing me while using me like a fucktoy. On all fours, I had to squeeze my arms to push my teardrop-shaped fleshorbs together 'cause it was the only way to keep the presenter from falling out. On top of that, I had to somehow manage to squeeze my arms in a way that my soft tit flesh pressed the button to activate the next slide. So absurd! So difficult!

Whatever! I had to try, so I pressed hard and squeezed epically and pushed my arms severely until my juicy juggs felt like they were about to burst. They were bulging so massively that they looked inflated or blown up. Umph!

Anyhow, I managed to push the button. Anyhow, it was the wrong button. Oh no! The presentation went back a slide. Oh damn! I tried again and again. It was getting worse and worse. The slides went back and forth all over the place. I so didn't manage to activate the right one. I so managed to look super stupid. As a result, the bimbo blur was thickening and I had to fight tooth and nails to keep it at bay.

In the meantime, Anderson was mounting me from behind by stepping over my butt with his feet on the outsides of my legs. OMG! It looked like he was mounting his race horse about to ride me hard and put me away wet. Umph! Slathering his cock with my wetness, he scooped my fuck juices all over my little, wrinkled asshole. When his hard tool was all greasy, he abruptly plunged it down. From his position above my ass, he basically dropped the hammer. My bunghole opened up way too easily, what with my extensive anal training and his aggressive intensity. Oh wow! Another log on my bimbo fire!

"Oh! Ah! Ooohhh! Aaarrrggghhh!" I instantly responded with noisy groans.

Those moans quickly turned into shrieks when Mr. Baldie started slapping my ass cheeks rudely. At least, he was hitting the unmarked spot between my lips and bow tattoos now, landing as many spanks as slide changes. Obviously, he wasn't pleased with my learning curve. Duh!

The way the company dude rammed my ass, he seemed to be gauging a hole as if he was drilling for oil, or more like drilling a lesson into me. He was rutting me like a brood mare with max speed and aggression as if he had to release his frustration about my learning difficulties. Anyhow, it was totally taken my mind off my project pitch and reducing me to a grunting piece of fuckmeat. Clear-headed but horny! Rational but needy! Gosh! The irony almost made me giggle all bimboy.

"Aaaambiguity, oooh, refers to situations, oooh, when the general meaning ooohhh...f something is unclear." I picked up where I had left off.

Talking like a serious consultant seemed like the bestest way to keep Bimbo-me down. However, I didn't come far, 'cause I was more groaning than speaking. All the while, I continued squeezing my arms to try and push the button on the presenter. It only earned me more harsh blows to my meaty ass 'cause I was too dumb to figure it out and get to the right slide. Anderson's slaps and my own incompetence only fogged my mind more thickly 'cause it showed me that I was better at being a pretty bimbo than a business woman. Umph!

"The breast approooaaach, oh boooiii, was to ass-periment, oooh 'n, test drive ass-ets, oh maaan, for cause 'n effect." I grunted along.

By now, I was really starting to babble, so much so that I was constantly making stupid mistakes. At least, I still managed to avoid those dreaded filler words, though barely. Apparently, however, that was all in Mr. Baldie's favor, 'cause he huffed more piqued for every blunder. Of course, he also added a fierce slap to the ass for every blooper. Gosh! The skin on my booty was burning hotter than the shame on my face.

"Oh well! I tried my best, but in the end, you seem only good for stripping 'n poking." He panted when he let his dick slip from my maltreated bunghole with a noisy pop. "A pity! But at least, you're well-prepared with those tattoos."

What a burn! Taking a short breather, Anderson used the break to tug on my high pony to make me rear up, only to grab the presenter and pull it out of my cleavage. He had found a better use for it, 'cause he promptly slid the laser pointer up my pussy. Remounting my rump, the company man placed his feet next to my legs and pushed them together. He didn't stop until my thighs were grinding against each other.

That way, my cunt got tightly pressed together, so much so that it firmly squeezed the presenter. Oh no! He was trying to make me push the button with my pussy, or more like with my cunt walls! Oh damn! I hadn't learned to pull it off with my boobs, so he proceeded to train my next asset. Oh shoot!

It didn't work much better, though, which earned me another round of rough slaps to my radiating rear end. Twisting the presenter in a way that the buttons pointed upwards, Mr. Baldie tested another approach. Kinda like I had said: Ass-periments to test drive the ass-ets. Gasp!

Assuming his position, he plunged his rock hard cock back up my ass. Giving my butt a major workout, or more like a major detention, he drilled my anal ring even harder than before, so much so that his thighs noisily slapped against my butt cheeks. Why? Cause he tried to activate the presenter's button stuck up my pussy by bumping his cock against it! Oh my god! So insane! So crude! So exciting! So arousing!

"Develop specialists..." I tried to continue my project pitch, 'cause I desperately needed to keep my head on straight.

Remembering my pitch was the only thing that kept me from going all bimbo. However, I was quickly interrupted when the company dude grabbed my arms and pulled them behind my back. This made me lose balance, so my head took a nosedive. With my ass in the air and face on the ground, my cheek plunged right into the mess I had made 'cause puddle of slobber. Just like that, Mr. Baldie had turned me from a lecturer into a mop all while pounding my backdoor and tearing me a new one. Gulp!

Obviously, Anderson savored the degrading procedure as much as he would have relished a brandy in a classy lounge, 'cause he repeatedly pulled me up by gripping my arms and letting me restart my presentation, only to dunk my head into the puddle of drool in mid-sentence. Every time, I shrieked from the tumble. Every time, I felt his dick twitching in my ass chute. I totally lost count of the number of repetitions, but eventually it pushed him over the edge.

Oh wow! Eventually, his twitching became rampant, so much so that he pulled his dick out of my ass. He didn't start cumming, though. Instead, he pushed his raging hard-on into my pussy right along the presenter. Oh my gawd! Out of the blue, I was getting a double vaginal penetration! What a stretching! What a stuffing! My poor pussy! My throbbing pussy!

Actually, the unexpected strain on my cunt walls and sudden filling vanquished me. No matter how hard I fought, my body reacted. I had thwarted a squirting orgasm before, but this time I was powerless 'cause it happened too fast. I was cumming! I grunted out my relief while my body twitched and jerked. The release was super intense but not enough to make me squirt 'cause clear head. What a pity! What luck! Why? Cause it allowed me to keep Bimbo-me under control despite the orgasm. Strike!

Anyhow, I was so occupied with my own pleasure that I barely noticed Anderson reaching his own climax. It quickly became apparent how much he had been waiting for this fantasy to play out all the same, 'cause the bald dude came galore. To say he shot a monster load would have been an understatement 'cause he basically sprayed me down. He was pumping my pussy full of his hot thick goo. Oh boy! It was a massive amount, so much so that my twat ended up filled to capacity.

I was still catching my breath from my orgasm while Mr. Baldie carefully pulled the presenter from my brimful snatch, so that no goo got spilled. With a final tug on my cholastyle high pony, he made me rear up and wiped the laser pointer clean in my cleavage. Ew!

"Oh honey, I tried my best but every teacher needs talent to work with." He told me in no uncertain terms while he was leaving streaks of goo in between my tit canyon. "However much I'm sorry to say, honey, but it was a good decision to assign somebody else to give future sales pitches!

What a diss! What satire!

"To cut a long story short, it's time to go 'n make us proud with your new job." He prompted me as soon as he was satisfied with the cleaning job.

Stuffing his cock back into his pants, he acted as if it was the normalest thing to take the business assistant for a test drive and tap her booty as introduction. The sexist! Despite his grant gestures, he was impatiently pushing me to rearrange my stewardess outfit and follow him outside, now that he had released his pent-up tension. Following him with my suitcase, he finally brought me to my hotel room. What a little detour!

Of course, Ortega had arranged for us bimbos to get the cheapest rooms in the hotel although it was better than a cold garage with no bed, right? Anyhow, Mr. Baldie didn't give me much time to get comfortable in my room, which was unfortunate 'cause I still had his spunk filling my pussy. Instead, he quickly collected Shelly and positioned us ass-istants on the parking lot at the back of the hotel building. Making us hold a tray with glasses of bubbly, we were basically the welcoming party for the salesmen!

One by one, the sales representatives arrived. Seeing the old, shabby conference center and cheap hotel, they looked less than enthusiastic. Seeing the hot, sexy welcoming committee, however, improved their mood instantaneously. As I had just reached an orgasm, my head was really clear and I was in full business mode. The fact that I celebrated Consultant-me's dominance over Bimbo-me during Anderson's 'Meat 'n' Greet Course' made me feel even more clear-headed. That was why I intensely disliked getting presented on a silver platter with my shredded, oversexualized outfit 'cause it felt beneath my dignity as a college grad. At the same time, though, I got excited by the spotlight, 'cause attention. Oh, the conflict!

What was worse? In my woken state, I eventually noticed how much these fake fingernails handicapped me. With the extreme length and rings and chains, they wouldn't let me do anything in a competent way, not even handing out glasses of bubbly. The clumsiness felt disgraceful to the max. At the same time, though, the flashiness of the Leopard-print excited me to no end. Oh, the contradiction!

What was worsest? Shelly was suddenly acting all cheery when welcoming the salesmen and handing them their drinks. Obviously, she was taking the competition deadly serious, so much so that she embraced her bimbo role to win the out-please-ment center! Just in time when I was trying to liberate myself of that silly act, which hampered my focus on the competition. Goddamnit! I couldn't have picked a worse moment. Oh, the irony!

I knew I had to keep up with Blondie and outdo her in cheeriness and joy. That was easier said than done, though. Swallowing my pride, I flashed a bright smile and giggled the way I remembered having done so often lately. Too bad, it didn't appear natural but totally forced. Way worse, I was limited in my movements, what with the slits in my skirt making every move a flashing danger. The worsest, though, was the spunk up my sexholes that made me constrict my pussy and ass muscles and constantly threatened to dribble out.

All of that was reason enough for most dudes to gravitate to Shelly. Oh shoot! This was becoming an uphill battle. For the first time ever, my professionalism was standing in my way. Where was the mindless Bimbo-me when I needed it the most?

Making matters worse was the fact that there were more sexpo visitors heading our way than sales reps. As the blonde bitch was busy with the sales dudes, it left me with those total nerds or mega sleazeballs. Whereas the sales reps mostly reacted with surprise and curiosity, the visitors behaved as wolfish and pervy as you might expect.

Of course, they took us for porn stars and no amount of arguing changed their opinion. Of course, they made coarse jokes and treated us as mere photo subjects. Can you say douchebags? The way they treated us chicks as nothing but sex objects was ultra misogynistic and super offensive, so much so that it made me cringe nonstop. I wanted to slap them in the face, not greet them excitedly.

The more cheery Blondie acted, the more I had to force every fake smile, and the more dudes favored her. What a vicious cycle! Eventually, she was greeting two dudes at the same time whereas I was standing by myself with nothing to do. Damnit! Cursing myself, I knew I had to change something. Only hours ago, this had been so easy. The whole bimbo act had come so naturally and by default. Now, it seemed like the hardest thing to do.

Gathering my courage, I addressed the next salesman with the brightest smile, giggliest snicker, and highest-pitch voice. The dude was younger than me with slicked back hair. He looked at me, I looked at him. No word was said, no pose was struck, not until Shelly had greeted him and led him away from me. Goddamnit!

What a lost opportunity! My business attitude was really hampering me. There was no way around it! I had to loosen the reins on Bimbo-me a bit, just a tiny little bit. Enough to make me flirtier, but not enough to lose control. No matter what, I had to pounce at the next guy, or else the battle had been lost before it even had begun.

There was the next arrival! It was a shy, nerdy visitor who looked like a 40-year-old virgin. Not my target audience, but maybe a good practice. Looking as confident as possible, I strode towards him. As expected, the slit of my skirt opened up and my deeply tanned leg slipped out. As not expected, my contraction loosened and Anderson's spunk deposit streamed out dripping onto the ground.

He looked at me, I looked at him. He started grinning coyly, I started giggling stupidly. The giggle became more frantic when I saw his eyes roaming from the pool of goo to my leg and up to my crotch. The giggle became hysterical when I pushed the skirt to the side and revealed my shaved, cum-smeared snatch.

There it was! The bimbo haze clouding my mind to the max! Oh wow! It totally led me to expose my awesome pussy and hug the nerdy visitor pressing his face into my bitching cleavage. For the perfect selfie, I threw my left arm around his shoulder and hooked my right forefinger into my neckline to present my cleavage for max effect. Going all in physically, I let him take the sexiest photo ever.

You should have seen my reaction when the nerdy dude walked inside. As soon as he was out of my sight, the haze lifted and left me back more woke than ever. I felt so indignant at myself! I felt so embarrassed with myself! Way too easily, I had slipped into my silly bimbo habit. I had fought so hard to keep my head straight during Anderson's 'Meat 'n' Greet Course'. Now, I had given Bimbo-me an inch and she had taken a mile. Shoot! Obviously, it only needed a specific trigger to make me go full bimbo. Holy shoot!

You should have seen Shelly's reaction in comparison. She looked so irritated! She looked so surprised! I guess she had already felt like the certain victor. Blondie didn't have a chance to be jealous for long, though, 'cause the next salesman arrived just in time and introduced himself by giving her a slap to the ass when she handed him a glass. Yelping from the unexpected move, she almost knocked over the tray and barely managed to keep the bubbly from spilling over his suit. Definitely not a very welcoming sight!
With that, we had served nine glasses of bubbly to the sales dudes. However, we had taken more than twice as many photos with sexpo visitors. Most importantly, though, Ortega and Wilson had arrived along with the last salesman. Of course, our boss had seen the slap-and-spill action and didn't let it slide. He stepped in front of his bimbos and pulled the dreaded scissors from his briefcase.

With a grin plastered onto his face, he cut the air in front of Shelly's face in an overly hammy way. Blondie's expression, by contrast, was overly frightened. Why? Cause she knew she had just earned a penalty point. Oh wow! All this time, I had barely managed to be welcoming and cheery. All this while, my bimbo act had appeared fake and put-on. All along, Blondie had earned more compliments. Just when Ortega had arrived, though, I had slipped and Bimbo-me had resumed power. How lucky can you get?

The Latino didn't care about yesterday's news and made the young secretary turn around right there on the parking lot. The good news was that all salesmen had walked into the building already. The trouble was that a couple of sexpo visitors witnessed all the action.

Anyhow, Ortega didn't settle for two simple cuts this time. I guess he had discovered some kinda creative vein, 'cause he sliced a long horizontal cut across the top of her back. Then he proceeded to cut up the back of her navy-blue schoolgirl blouse from top to bottom. Each cut was shorter than the previous one, resulting in a v-shape. When he was done, he had totally shredded the back of Shelly's outfit. As a result, more skin got exposed than covered, and all that when we were about to assist in a workshop. So much for official seminar. Gulp!

With the punishment dished out, the smug exec turned over to me. It was time to hand out my reward. Even though I knew what was about to happen, I didn't expect how much it would affect me. OMG! I felt more nervous than ever. With every passing second, I became more giddy than ever.

There it was again! Another trigger! Descending like a thick fog, the bimbo haze clouded my mind. The prospect of glitter and glamour was all that was needed to stoke my bimbo flame. Ortega's expression only added fuel to the fire. On the one hand, it seemed to say that the jewelry perfectly fit my bimbo appearance. On the other hand, it seemed to say that there was already more than enough fake bling-bling decorating this ditzy doll.

Anyhow, it made me all woozy while my defenses were already weakened from the spunk mishap, so much so that I totally forgot about my professionalism. After all, it felt like a proposal, sorta. I mean, Ortega wasn't making me his wife but his one true bimbo. Yay! My hand was shaking epically when he pulled a ring from his briefcase and slipped it over my right middle finger. Yay! Yay! It was the most beautiful ring ever. Way more, it was the most trendy ring ever. Yay! Yay! Yay!

Why so en vogue? First off, it was gold and shiny. Second, it was a double knuckle ring. Third, it had a crisscross shape forming two X's. The ring covered my full finger with a X on each joint and perfectly fit my nail rings and nail chains. What more can be desired, right?

With our outfits restyled, Ortega gave as a moment to get refreshed before taking us inside the convention center. Leading us past the trade show floor, he took us up to the meeting rooms. I couldn't help but keep looking at my sparkling new ring. In a way, it acted like a positive reinforcement that increased the frequency and intensity of my bimbo behavior. In a way, it had a similar effect to D-Rod's charm bracelet.

The more I looked at the ring, the more cheery I became. The more giddy I felt, the more the bimbo buzz was thickening. Oh my gawd! In a way, I felt like the ring was a spotlight shining on a stage. Bimbo-me was literally drawn to it like a moth to a flame while it was chasing Consultant-me into the darkness behind the curtain. My rational side could literally peek through the curtain and whisper like a prompter, but my sex-driven side was doing all the bimbotaining on stage. Kinda like looksies no feelies.

Oh jeez! All those literaries. All those filler words. All that silly babble. All that bimbo talk. Actually, perfect time and place!

The reinforcement was growing stronger, so much so that I eventually fetched the lip enhancer from my purse and started plumping-up my lips. Consultant-me whispered and cursed incessantly but Bimbo-me continued the action. It made me super excited while giving me the creeps at the same time. What a contrast!

No matter what, I didn't stop until we reached the meeting room. Why? Cause it felt like the ultimate bimbo thingie to do. I mean, making my lips super plump to the point that I could barely speak intelligibly, was so silly. Besides, it was so über-sexual 'cause a trout pout wasn't useful for anything but sucking cock, right?

As I said, perfect time and place 'cause Wilson and the sales dudes had already gathered in the meeting room. They were still bickering about the facility and its furnishing although the company had provided loads of snacks as compensation. Actually, it really was an awesome buffet to feast on although the sales reps seemed to prefer feasting on the two bimbos when we entered. Tihi!

Once again, it became clear what these reward workshops were all about. It so wasn't about transferring information but providing amenities. It so wasn't a training atmosphere but more like a wellness program. Of course, the part about providing and well-being totally rested on us ass-istants. Of course, Ortega instantly told us to go the circuit and make sure that all sales dudes were well provided for. Duh!

By now, the men were getting seated in a semi-circle in fronta the smart board. I had already noticed it when we had welcomed them but most of these sales reps really fit the stereotypical slick and vain look. Kinda complementary to the glammy and vain bimbo look. Tihi!

Whatever! One after the other, I walked up to the five dudes on the right side of the semi-circle while Shelly did the same on the left side. When I approached the first salesman, I was laser-focused on avoiding more sexual innuendos and blunders 'cause appearance and all. He was an elderly dude who looked ultra meticulous with his rigorous side part trim and perfectly fitting gray suit.

"Coffee, tea, or me?" I slurred barely audibly 'cause über-pout.

Of course, I said that! Bimbo-me really was the most stereotypical bimbo dummy ever, wasn't she? For sure, my rational side cursed like a sailor 'cause it wasn't just biased but also sexist! It was totally outta time and place! Somehow, though, it seemed like the perfect thingie for me to say in my position, right? Actually, it felt like the perfect thingie for me to say, too. With my outfit, I already looked like a hostess. With my task, I acted like a hostess. So no biggie, right? Air hostess, fair hostess, conference hostess. It was all the same in the end, right?

Whatever! It made the tall and skinny Mr. Meticulous look at me all stunned and puzzled. It was more than obvious that he hadn't expected that question. While he was too dumbfounded to respond straightaway, the dude next to him started chuckling right off the bat. His sardonic laughter totally stoked my bimbo flame. Oh no! I had to be even more focused now. The laughing dude turned out to be the salesman I had failed to greet on the parking lot. With his slicked back hair and persistent gleam in his eyes, he appeared like a real sales shark. Yet, he looked barely 30 and was the youngest sales rep present.

"So... tell me, are you one of the workshop leaders or experts?" He asked while eyeing me suspiciously.

"Oh no way! As if! Like, never ever!" I quickly replied, impulsively starting to babble.

Uh-oh! There it was! The total bimbo effect! At least, my rational side managed to make me abort the response and refocus. That was why I closed my eyes to concentrate before elaborating. No bimbo babble! No bimbo babble! Consultant-me silently tried to knock some sense into me.

"I'm here to give some wh-orientation, sorta." I explained. "I'm the twerk-shop ass-istant, you know?"

Mr. Shark inhaled sharply in response although I had avoided the dreaded filler words. Oh no! I had pulled another boner, I mean another slip of the tongue! Oh darn! Another embarrassment!

"So you're here to give some ass-istance, sorta. You mind if we, like totally, call you 'Assy' then?" The youngster asked extra cunningly. "For the sake of simplicity, you know?"

Oh! My! Gawd! The manipulative sales rep had just landed two strikes at once. He had nicknamed me in the most derisive way ever. Strike 1! He had mimicked my way of speaking in the snarkiest way ever. Strike 2!

The workshop hadn't even started yet and this sharkboy had me twisted round his finger already. I was literally rooted to the spot, 'cause I felt so ruffled. This manipulative youngster had literally smelled the drop of blood and pounced at it. For sure, he was a mover and shaker who got stuff done. For sure, it made me act more bimboy than ever.

"You can get me a hot coffee now, Assy!" Mr. Shark told me when I failed to reply, only standing there with my plumped-up trout pout gaping.

All the while meticulous dude still hadn't found his voice. I guess he didn't know what the fudge was going on. Not that I did, anyway. No matter what, getting called by that derisive nickname got me going. You won't believe how fast I hustled over to the buffet to get his coffee. Mr. Meticulous ordering a mint tea almost got lost in the shuffle there.

With the fakest smile ever, I presented Sharkboy with his coffee. After all, I was desperately set on making up for my boner, I mean blunder. Duh! So what did I do? By default, I tried giving him a boner by making sure to brush my long fake Leopard-print nails over the back of his hand when I handed him the cup.

Damned bimbo buzz! Get a grip, girl! That was Consultant-me literally screaming murder 'cause it was the kinda behavior my professionalism totally forbade. Now, it was too late, though, 'cause I was already hearing a derogatory huff from the young dude. At least, I managed to quickly move on to the next sales rep before I made another silly blunder. Phew!

The middle-aged dude sported a blue shirt and yellow tie 'power dress'. In combination with his fat pot belly, it totally made him look like a stereotypical sales squid. So not a bitching prospect! Whatever! Most importantly, I didn't want to repeat my mistake with him. After all, I had an out-please-ment center to win.

"So... mister. How can I, you know, be of any kinda ass-istance 'n stuff, like totes?" I mumbled.

Holy fudge! How had this happened? I had been so focused on avoiding my sexist stewardess phrase that I had started babbling like a bimbo again. Why the hell was it so hard for me to focus on more than one thingie? Why was it so hard for me to appear somewhat competent?

Girl, you earned excellent grades in college. You were a tough-as-nails consultant not that long ago. You can be competent in everything if you work hard for it. That was what Consultant-me quibbled. Actually, though, that was totally like ages ago. Looking pretty is way easier than working and lots more rewarding. That was Bimbo-me responding. So frustrating! So annoying! Not annoying, however, was Mr. Squid's reaction 'cause he seemed too modest to exploit the situation and simply ordered some soda pop. Easy-peasy!

With that, there were only two guys left. Before addressing the next-to-last dude, I had to brace myself. After all, my embarrassment and frustration were growing to new heights, which were two emotions I felt despite my bimbo haze. As a result, I had given up on all the multitasking and followed Ortega's instructions instead.

"Coffee, tea, or me?" I finally asked as clearly as I could manage.

The guy must have been 50ish and appeared like a slimey weasel who would do anything to make a sale. Mr. Weasel didn't respond at once, though. Not 'cause he was too stunned, but rather 'cause he was enjoying the way I was killing myself here. To express that, he clasped his hands behind his head with his elbows flung out. What a typical male posture!

With the slimey dude in waiting position, the last guy leant forward like he was feigning interest and sized me up extensively. He seemed my age and looked like a small, sneaky man who was literally speaking with a forked tongue. Just the same, I was eying him suspiciously, 'cause I somehow recognized him. I just couldn't tell from where or when.

"So, what would you offer me for not choosing the third option?" The sneaky dude asked.

Shocker!

The moment I heard his voice, I remembered. Mr. Reptile wasn't just my age, he was actually a fellow student from college. Back in the day, he had dated my best friend. He had been an insufferable douchebag then, and by the looks of it, he still was today. But where was he coming from? For sure, he hadn't been one of the nine salesmen we had welcomed on the parking lot. Oh right! There were ten sales reps present. He must have been the one arriving via the front entrance.

Wake-up call!

If I remembered him, chances were high that he might remember me too. That insight acted like an adrenaline shot! I felt like I was abruptly waking up from a delirious state. The stage curtain had fully opened and Consultant-me had pushed Bimbo-me into the orchestra pit.

Shot to the heart!

Finally, my mind was clear. The adrenaline rush made my heart beat in overdrive and caused me to breathe rapidly. My senses were acutely heightened while I was extremely jittery and nervous. Most of all, though, I was intensely aware of everything. For the first time, I fully noticed all the changes and bimbofications in all their gory details.

Oh jeez! The golden cuff bracelets weighed on my arms and the big golden triangle hoops pulled on my earlobes. The stewardess uniform uncomfortably squeezed my juicy juggs and the slits in the skirt made every step a challenge. My lips were tingling from getting plumped-up so much and those sky-high heels were killing my feet.

Even worse, the rings were spreading my fingers apart and those damned fake claws with rings and chains were handicapping my every move. Getting that manicure must have been the dumbest idea ever. Actually, all these bimbofications seemed like dumb ideas, so much so that they were overloading my mind.

No matter what, my fellow alum was still waiting for my response. The longer he was sizing me up, the bigger the chances of him recognizing me. That couldn't happen 'cause I was already embarrassed beyond imagination. More importantly, though, it would be the death knell to my reputation and the death blow to the out-please-ment center.

That was why I had to react and quick. So back to topic. Mr. Reptile was talking about the 'me' part of the silly stewardess phrase, wasn't he? Okay, fine! I guess I should have expected that kind of question. After all, Mr. Weasel looked at me like he was about to sell me the most unnecessary sales item ever.

I couldn't make a mistake now! I couldn't fail now! This was a critical moment. If I made Ortega look bad, I would lose the ass-essment. If I blew my cover, I would lose everything. I had to keep up appearance whatsoever. I had to keep up the bimbo act. Oh damnit!

"Mister, I could get you a great deal! If you actually deserve it!" I tried to play it coy.

Oh jeez! I was so rational at the moment. I felt so business savvy at the moment. Yet, I had to play the silly bimbo ditz. I had to act like a mindless sexdoll. Worst time! Worst place! Ever!

I tried anyway. I really tried. No matter what, I couldn't bring myself to babble all bimboy. Instead, it made me appear more like a smartass.

"Oh, Assy! We're the company's cream of the crop here 'n I'm the sales champion. I deserve it all!" Mr. Weasel was the one responding.

Oh wow! What a sales pitch! The humility while manspreading! The modesty while ogling my boobies! Just the thing that shattered Consultant-me's nerves. Just the thing that got Bimbo-me's juices flowing. Actually, I cursed internally while my legs buckled externally. Trying to steady myself, I put my hand on Mr. Weasel's shoulder. Oh shoot! It was the last thing I wanted to do 'cause it totally looked like I was teasing him.

"Mister! What about this offer?" I quickly said. "Let me maintain care for the sales champion."

"You can ride me like some racy whores... you know, for refills 'n all." I added as special enticer.

Reptile and Weasel were huffing before I even realized my newest blunders. Goddamnit! In my woken state, I couldn't bring myself to babble like a bimbo, but I still couldn't prevent giving boners in any way. Obviously, Bimbo-me still had a certain influence. Whatever! Keeping his sprawling male posture, Mr. Weasel weighed his options for a couple of moments, making me turn my attention to my fellow alum.

"Hey Assy! If I choose the third option, what do I get specifically?" Mr. Reptile asked again, not letting me off the hook that easily.

Oh Jeez! There he was, talking out of both sides of his mouth from the start. Just the way, I remembered him. As if I had needed another reminder, it was clearer than ever that I had to be cautious now. I couldn't risk making a mistake, and I couldn't risk him recognizing me.

Getting called 'Assy' for everyone to hear was bad. Getting called that nickname by a dude who only knew me as an ambitious student was way more disgraceful. It instantly stoked Bimbo-me, like literally fanning the flames! See? Damned literally!

"Hihi, mister! So glad you ask!" I chortled 'cause the way Mr. Weasel weighed his options gave me an unexpected idea.

"With such a huge range of options, let me take your load, I mean let me make the decision for you." I suggested.

Not bad, was it? At least, for a spur-of-the-moment decision. Besides, it was an innocent explanation for the third option. All the same, no bimbo talk but another blunder. What the fudge! As a result, Mr. Reptile gave me a penetrating look. So scrutinizing! So dangerous! I saw him wrinkling his brow. I saw some kinda recognition flashing in his eyes. Oh no! I was about to get exposed!

The frown remained on his face while he looked to my painted eyebrows, my inflated lips, and my manicured hands. My heart was in my mouth when he shook his head and the glint disappeared from his eyes. Apparently, he couldn't pin me down yet. Phew! Apparently, there were too many bimbofication for him to recognize me. Umph!

But back to business. Both sales dudes deemed my suggestion acceptable. So I tottered off to fetch them a cuppa coffee each. At least, I had managed to clear the first hurdle unscathed and weathered the first storm. For the time being!

After serving all five men, I walked back to Ortega. Apparently, Shelly had needed just as long to provide the rest of the salesmen with their amenities 'cause we both checked back with our boss at the same time. This really was a head-to-head race. Anyhow, everything continued to be up in the air. The matter wasn't settled. Instead, all bets were off.

All the more, 'cause I knew that I was walking the edge here. Sooner or later, Mr. Reptile would remember. Sooner or later, he would see past all the fake-assery. All the more, if I kept acting like the smartass he had known in college. I had to crank up the bimbo style if I liked it or not. That was the last thing I wanted to do in my current woken state, however.

First of all, the workshop was officially beginning. For that, Wilson gave a short introductory speech. In the meantime, Ortega used the time to have both his ass-istants present their exercise concepts. Then and there, my decision to play it by the ear and decide spontaneously came back to bite me in the ass. It turned out that Blondie had been busy during the train ride 'cause she had come up with an elaborate plan. Not that I hadn't been busy during the journey. Just a different kind of busy. Umph!
That was why it was an easy decision for our boss to make. Of course, he went with Shelly's plan and chose her exercise for the workshop. Oh shoot! With that, Blondie had just taken the lead again. What is more, she had even geared up some workshop materials. Bragging like a showoff, she handed me a card inscribed with a multitude of different words that were arranged in a 5x5 grid. Looking at the card, I was really confused, so much so that I almost missed out on Shelly's explanation.

"You see sir, I wanted to prepare something special. Not some run-off-the-mill exercise like the typical routine stuff you get from Miss Bimbo." She added a well-placed dig.

"Let me present to you: the bimbo bingo!" She announced, acting like a show host.

So that was what those cards were all about. They were supposed to be special bingo cards. On second look, it actually made a lot of sense 'cause there were buzzwords, or more like sales phrases, inscribed in the grid. So creative! So ridiculous!

"It's really simple, so simple that Missy can play it too." Shelly continued her explanations. "Every row is linked with a specific action."

"Better listen up, Missy! This is important" She kept taunting me. "A word from the first row gets said 'n you gotta touch your boobs. Somebody says a word from the second row, you gotta bend over with legs straight." She went right down to the details. "You hear a phrase from the third row, you gotta drop something down your cleavage."

"A word from the fourth row 'n you gotta cross-uncross your legs. The fifth row, you gotta suck on a pen." Blondie elaborated. "You finish a row, column, or diagonal, 'n you win. That's when you gotta stand up 'n sing the Barbie song."

Oh woah! That was a lot of information! Fortunately, I was currently in my woken state 'cause Shelly's game was elaborate as fudge! The fallout was also huge as fudge. It wasn't that much of a single exercise but rather a game that lasted the whole duration of the workshop. As a result, us bimbos had to be alert at all times. We had to be aware of our bingo cards the entire time. We had to perform slutty acts while assisting our boss and servicing the sales dudes. On top of that, we had to do the most embarrassing act ever when scoring the win. So disgraceful! So absurd!

"However, there's a little tweak to the usual bingo setting to make it more exciting." Shelly wasn't done yet. "We got the same bingo cards. So whoever performs the matching action first, scores the point."

Oh wow! That was a lot to keep in mind. Truth be told, I loathed Shelly's game from the outset. Just as much, Ortega loved it. I had never seen him that positive about whatsoever. He even said a few words in praise of Blondie's creativity and preparation. Gasp! So awesome... not!

Anyhow, there was no time to debate 'cause Wilson was just about finishing his introduction. That was why Ortega gave us bimbos a final stern reminder that we had to be careful and keep up appearances. We were supposed to perform the slutty bimbo bingo but weren't allowed to be too obvious about it. It sounded totally hollow and hypocritical. I mean, the company men were clued-in anyways, and the salesmen probably suspected a thing or two. Still, it was important for leadership to be able to deny any kinda allegations and knowledge. Oh well!

But back to the workshop. Like all standard seminars, the next step was a presentation by the invited speaker. In this case, that was Ortega. While the smug Latino gave his speech and showed his slides, us ass-istants basically stood on the sidelines. You can take that literally. Why? Cause Anderson assigned Miss Bimbo to stand on the left side of the room where the table with beverages was located whereas Miss Trophy was instructed to stand on the right side where the table with snacks was placed.

Of course, the sales reps made total use of their privilege. Quelle surprise! I mean, this was supposed to be a reward for their hard work, right? They were offered the chance to have two hot bimbos taking care of their needs with the wave of a hand. So everything that happened was bound to happen. While our boss was talking about argumentation strategies and communication tricks and boring stuff like that, the sales dudes were busy having us serve drinks and snacks and leering at our curves.

Oh Jeez! Those sales dudes really knew how to keep a girl, I mean a hostess, busy. As a result, I quickly lost concentration and my legs slipped through the freshly cut slit more often than not. I was also getting footsore, especially in my high-heeled golden ankle boots. Then and there, I was glad that I didn't have a full-time job as a hooters girl or breastaurant waitress or even stripper. Although... I totally might be sooner than later, what with me on the verge of losing my job. Gasp!

Oh, before I forgot it, I had to make sure to keep my bingo card handy. After all, Consultant-me was well aware that there was no chance to memorize all those buzzwords. The important question, however, was where I could keep the card without it being too eye-catching?

Too bad, Bimbo-me had already tottered off on impulse and started serving the first coffee. Totally bad, 'cause I noticed Shelly stopping in her tracks before I even had a chance to come up with any kinda idea. Oh no! Oh shoot! Of course, she knew all the phrases. Of course, she had an advantage. So unfair! Such foul play!

The young secretary turned towards Ortega as though she was looking at the presentation. As if! I saw her lifting her right arm and putting her hand on her right fake bolt-on fleshcan, giving it an ultrashort squeeze. Clever, sorta. The way Blondie had positioned herself, the sales dudes could only see her back. That left the smug exec as the only one to watch her bimbo move from the front although the sales reps got a perfect view at her exposed back through the shredded blouse. No matter what, the result was just as bad.

Miss Trophy 1 -- Miss Bimbo 0

Frantically, I started looking for an idea. I couldn't miss the next buzzword. All the while, the solution was staring me in the face, like literally. Oh damn, that word again! After folding the bingo card in the middle, I pulled out my compact handbag mirror and flipped it open. Then I placed the piece of paper on the mirror glass in a way that the grid basically stared at me. That idea had hit me not a moment too soon.

"Indeed, I am going to present relevant findings from current research. Yet, I am going to focus on best practice examples, I have to say." Ortega presented the next slide when Shelly turned her attention back to the sales dudes.

Uh-oh! Something rang a bell. As I still had my handbag mirror in my hand, I quickly looked it up. There it was, center left box, second row: 'best practice'. Oh boy! This was my chance to pull off a bimbo move. Oh gulp! I couldn't waste precious time on my sense of shame now.

You remember which move? Me neither. So, no biggie! That was why I had scribbled the bimbo moves at the end of each row. This one sounded easy, sorta. I had to drop something into my cleavage. That shouldn't be much of a problem, what with my deep neckline. However, it was easier said than done 'cause appearance.

Shelly had managed the bimbo move without alerting the sales dudes' attention. Somehow, I had to pull that off, too. But how? I couldn't just ask a sales rep to hand me his pen and push it between my boobies, could I? Never ever! I had to be canny now. I had to be quick about it too 'cause that weasel dude was already waving me over.

In equal measure, I felt reluctance and panic rising up inside of me. Consultant-me screamed to avoid rushing headlong into disaster whereas Bimbo-me warned me not to let this chance slide. Right now, acting without thinking would have been so preferable. Yet, I couldn't do it.

I had to force every move and every step. My gaze roamed over the table until a small dispenser box hit my eye. That could work. Gathering all my willpower, I suppressed my inner resistance and grabbed the dispenser filled with artificial sweeteners. Lifting it up, I held it right above the center of my neckline.

It was enough to give me the shivers. I still forced myself to push the button and let a small, white pill drop out. The moment, it hit the spot right in the canyon between my big, round fleshorbs made my skin crawl. Could you believe it? I was sweetening titties while sweating blood. If I had been in bimbo mode, I would have giggled about the hilarity. In my woken state, however, I could only whimper in shame.

Anyhow, the idea had been good. The execution, however, wasn't so great. Why? Cause my hostess uniform was too tight, so much so that my juicy juggs got firmly pressed against one another. That was why the pill didn't slip down the flesh canyon and disappeared. Instead, it sat there on top of my cleavage. Every second the pill remained there, the goosebumps doubled. Oh jeez!

Where was my inner bimbo when I needed it? No matter how much I hated to admit it, that silly part of me would have come in handy right now. What would Bimbo-me do? Oh, well! Jiggle and shake, of course. I didn't want to do it, but I had no other choice. Following my bimbo logic, I started moving my chest to make my big, ole funbags quake and wobble.

Shake, shake, shake! Shake your boobies!

Oh shoddy! In my panic, I had totally forgotten to follow Shelly's example and turn towards the presentation. With the pill slipping down my flesh canyon, I sheepishly looked across the room. Weasel was still waving at me. He was also looking at me. Oh no! He had seen my tits jiggle and shake in their confines. All the same, I had still scored.

Miss Trophy 1 -- Miss Bimbo 1

Despite the successful score, my cheeks flushed scarlet. The utter embarrassment turned me into a pillar of salt. I desperately wanted to giggle and smile it away. No matter how hard I tried, though, I couldn't bring myself to flash a trademark fake smile. Once again, my inner bimbo failed me when I needed it. Damn!

Eventually, I managed to walk over to the slimey dude. He looked quite displeased, though, 'cause it took way too long. I tried to make up for it by bringing him an additional snack, but it seemed as if he would have preferred something more slutty. Maybe, a leg slip! Probably, a nip slip! Too bad, I was still too creeped out to do anything bimboy. Gulp!

Anyhow, nothing really exciting happened for the next couple of slides. Ortega droned on and on while us ass-istants served drinks and snacks. Gosh! These sales reps were so much more focused on feasting than listening. Surprisingly, though, no typical buzzwords were said.

That happened when I was just handing meticulous dude a fresh drink. Ortega said something about a paradigm shift or the like. What a worn out, trite phrase! What a typical buzzword! I almost dropped the cup to pull out my handbag mirror and check. I was totally on edge! But then I noticed Shelly bending over while standing next to Mr. Squid.

The fudge! Blondie was pulling off the bimbo move! She had been quicker 'cause I had been occupied with the damned hostess service. Get your priorities straight, girl! The way the secretary positioned her body, though, her butt faced the presentation. As a result, our boss was treated to a perfect look at her arched booty while squid dude had a chance to leer at her fake titties. However, he so didn't dare doing so, looking anywhere instead.

What a loser! Bimbo-me silently mocked him. What a professional! Consultant-me silently praised him.

More importantly, though, what a scam! I mean, Shelly was giving daddy the bestest view even though he wasn't the guest of honor. In a way, Blondie was cheating. After all, this was supposed to be a reward workshop, and watching us ass-istants flash our goods was supposed to be the reward. Either way, the result was undisputable.

Miss Trophy 2 -- Miss Bimbo 1

I was highly indignant 'cause her behavior was giving our profession a bad name. On second look, that was totally silly 'cause there was no such profession as an office bimbo. Still, my blood was up 'cause I knew I could easily do a better job. I could easily be a better hostess. Oh damn! Now, that Consultant-me was in the driver's seat, my competitive streak reared its head. It made me feel like I needed to be the best at whatever. In an absurd twist, it made me yearn to be the better ass-istant. I just needed a chance to prove it. I really wanted a chance to prove it. The irony!

"Always remember, closing the sale is what matters. That is the bottom line indeed." Ortega was about to finish his presentation.

Here we go! I didn't have to look at my bingo card to know what was in store for me. I had seen the phrase 'bottom line' in the box right beneath 'best practice' when I had last looked at the grid. This time, I could react quicker than Blondie. Now, it was my time to bend over.

Despite my competitiveness, the embarrassment from the previous bimbo move was still strong. I was totally of two minds, like literally this time. Mortal shame and competitive zeal were goading each other, which was extremely unfavorably for me. Why? Cause it made me feel pressured into performing the act while it also made me feel more shamefaced than ever.

On the plus side, I already had experience with the move 'cause project pitch. Remember? The bimbo move had worked back then. It would work this time, too. That was the decisive selling point that got me going. I know, I know, the phrase 'selling point' deserved its own bimbo move. That irony wasn't lost on me.

Anyhow, I repeated the procedure from the project pitch by grabbing a silver spoon from the beverage table. Turning around, I feigned some kinda mishap, which wasn't really difficult 'cause goddamned porn claws. The spoon landed on the ground as intended, which attracted the attention of several salesmen. Brazing myself, I was getting ready to pick the spoon off the ground.

Just then Mr. Meticulous, who was sitting closest to me, swooped in. Getting off his chair, he was quick to pick up the spoon and hand it back to me. Oh woah! That really caught me off guard. More than befuddled, I had no option but to thank that petty-minded pedant. He had totally gotten the drop on me. He had totally rained on my parade. What a stickler! What a fusspot!

Way worse, though, from the corner of my eye, I saw Shelly moving. She was bending down pretending to fumble around with her red strappy platform heels. Once again, she wasn't treating the sales dudes to a full view of her booty 'cause she was standing sideways to the semi-circle of chairs. Another scam! Once again, however, she had landed a score.

Miss Trophy 3 -- Miss Bimbo 1

Jeez! I was visibly furious about the missed chance. However, I was just as furious about Shelly cheating so blatantly. Either way, some commotion distracted me 'cause Ortega had finished his presentation and everybody was moving to take a short smoke break.

With the smoke break giving us bimbos a short rest, it was time to control the intermediate results. I had only checked a single box, 'cause I had dropped a thingie down my cleavage. Not awesome! What about Shelly, though? She had bent over two times, so she had checked two boxes in the same row. She had also touched her boob. Not awesome at all! Blondie was leading by two boxes. Shoot!

After the smoke break, the second part of the workshop started. It was a fish bowl conversation, which was another standard seminar method. Only, there wasn't anything standard about this seminar. Oh, you want to know the details of the fish bowl session? Basically, it was a Q&A session. Wilson, Anderson, and Ortega were seated in front of the participants like sitting on a stage. The three men were presented as experts in all sales stuff ever. Next to them was a free chair left for the moderator. The sales dudes had the chance to write questions on presentation cards and throw them into a big glass bowl.

There was a catch, however, and that was the moderating role. After all questions had been gathered, it was the ass-istants' job to draw a card from the bowl, sit on the free chair, and introduce the question to the experts. Of course, us ass-istants had to alternately take on the moderating role question by question. Easy peasy, right? As if! Cause bingo!

It was my job to start the fish bowl conversation. So I tottered up to the stage and pulled a presentation card from the bowl. While I walked up there, Blondie remained standing at the buffet, ready to serve another snack or whatever to whoever.

The task was supposed to be really simple. Draw a card and read it out aloud. I wasn't supposed to divert attention from the experts. Was it working out? Not really. Even though it wasn't my intention, every sales dude was focused on me bending over and grabbing the card, which wasn't that easy 'cause goddamned fake claws. Jeez! The way I had deliberately converted myself into a helpless, ditzy doll was so beyond disgraceful.

"Here we go, everybody!" I announced, trying hard to avoid my trademark bimbo babble.

"What's your potency... I mean, potential market for our new products." I stumbled out of the gates.

Oh darn! For a moment, I had confused potential and potency. How stupid can you be! Nobody had noticed it, right? As if! The looks exchanged by Ortega and Wilson said more than a thousand words. It felt as bad as it sounded dumb. More importantly though, I saw Shelly looking around the room while standing at the buffet. Turning around, she swiftly bent over the table, grabbing a cup and filling it with coffee.

No matter how much she tried to hide it, I instantly knew what she was up to. She was copying me. The cheat! It was a bimbo move! The bitch! I saw the pleated mini skirt dangerously rising up when she kept her legs straight while bending over. 'Potential market' must have been a buzzword and Blondie had made another score.

Miss Trophy 4 -- Miss Bimbo 1

Oh shoot! Oh fudge! Oh jeez! These were becoming dangerous tides 'cause Shelly had bent over three times now. I felt like a head coach who was under pressure from a losing streak. Worse, though, I hadn't even noticed the phrase. Shelly was so quick and so ruthless. Oh damn! The secretary had just completed the third box in a row. She was getting close to winning the bingo race. I couldn't let that happen. I wouldn't let that happen. I needed to win the out-please-ment center and put that blonde bitch in her place.

How could I influence the game, though? With Consultant-me in the driver's seat, I was at a disadvantage when it came to the bimbo moves. However, I could easily benefit from it, 'cause I was a smart, sophisticated college grad who could play the game like a fiddle. I wasn't helpless or out of depth. As if!

"Don't you wanna share my assets, I mean your asset knowledge 'bout optimization, gentlemen?" I weighed in on the debate. "I'm open for business, I mean open for all business possibilities."

What was I doing here? Actually, I was fishing for some buzzwords, 'cause I remembered phrases like 'innovation' or 'cutting edge' from the grid. The more I made them talk, the higher the chance of them saying one of those phrases. Unfortunately, though, Bimbo-me kinda derailed my elaborate plan, making me inadvertently stumble into sex phrases.

"To sum it up, we need to monetize our assets more effectively." Wilson closed the discussion.

Oh dang! It was time for the next question. But wait! He had said something about monetizing, right? That was the word I had been looking for. It was so cringeworthy that it had stuck in my memory. I even remembered that it was in the third row, so I had to drop something into my cleavage. Oh bang! Shelly hadn't noticed the phrase yet. This was my chance! But wait again! I was sitting right on stage! I was sitting in the spotlight! There was no way to do this bimbo move inconspicuously. Making matters worse, I didn't have anything on me except for the moderation card. What was I supposed to do?
Fold the paper and push it between my big, ole funbags, of course. My fingers were shaking hard, so much so that I almost dropped the card. My mind was racing fast, so much so that I started sweating. Time was ticking, and I couldn't come up with a more unobtrusive way. Bimbo-me would have simply performed the drop and giggled it away as an oopsie. In my woken state, however, I couldn't bring myself to act that ditzy.

When I finally started folding the moderation card with shaking hands, Blondie had gotten up on stage to take my place. The moment had passed. I had missed my chance to perform my bimbo move. Damnit! Where did it leave me? Without a score for sure! I hadn't performed the move, so it didn't count. That much was clear.

Could you believe it? I had just outsmarted myself. I had been too woken for my own good. First, I had been clever enough to winkle a buzzword out of the discussion. What a smartass! Then I had failed to bring the score home. What a dumb bitch! Getting off my seat, I felt more frustrated than ever. I was more than dissatisfied with my own performance.

Exchanging places with Blondie, I didn't even reach the buffet before Sharkboy waved me over. Oh my god! Obviously, I was a way better hostess than bingo player. Apparently, I was a way better waitress than presenter. Ugh!

"Tell me, like totally, 'bout that three option thingy again, Assy!" He used the short silence when Shelly was drawing a question from the bowl.

Quelle surprise, he continued mocking my bimbo babble. Sure thing, he made me ask my stewardess phrase and used my new nickname. For better or worse, it drew most of the dudes' attention to me, which made Bimbo-me cheer and Consultant-me curse once more.

"Um... coffee, tea, or you know what?" I grimaced before trying to wriggle out of my predicament 'cause I so didn't want to say that sexist phrase anymore.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know what." He didn't let me off the hook that easily. "Let me help you out there anyway, Assy."

Holding a moderation card and pen, the young dude quickly handed it over to me and called on me to write the phrase down. This was anything but what I had intended. I so didn't like where this was going, but I couldn't back out now. I needed to get this over with quick before he remembered me. Oh shoot! I had tried to be extra clever and steer clear of the problem. In the end, though, my smart ass had only dug a hole for me. So much for the highly-educated Consultant-me. Sometimes, it was simply better to be a vapid bimbo.

With my hand trembling, I wrote down the note. When it was done, Sharkboy mockingly chided me and made me cross out the word 'me'. I had to exchange the word, so the card read: Coffee, Tea, or Assy! Holding the card up, he told me to turn a complete circle, so every sales rep could see it. And with that, every guy was in on the joke, even the ones Shelly had served before. And with that, every dude was laughing right into my face, amused by my cluelessness. And with that, the bimbo haze descended on my mind. The public disgrace was another trigger!

Jeez! I should have been super glad when I could finally get away from the sneaky dude and fetch his coffee. The moment, I turned around, however, I felt a slap to my ass. Sharkboy had dropped every pretense and made a total macho move, spanking my butt.

The unexpected slap made me lose my balance. Stumbling forwards, I barely managed to turn around before landing on a lap. On impulse, I felt like acting the way I had done on the train ride. On impulse, I felt like giving the dude a lap dance and grinded my booty on his crotch. With a coupla seconds of delay, I realized whose lap it was.

Mr. Reptile's!

Oh damn! I had tried my bestest to avoid my fellow alum and stayed as far away from him as possible so far. No way, I could act all bimboy in front of him, not when I was remembering the way we had interacted in college 'cause he had always made fun of me as a prude back then.

Like a scalded cat, I hopped off his lap. In a heartbeat, my head was clear again and my newly regained rationality made the shame of giving my fellow alum a lap dance burn that much hotter. It was so contradictory! The closer I got to my fellow college grad, the less I could bring myself to behave like a ditzy bimbo. The less I acted all bimboy, the higher the possibility of him recognizing me. What a vicious cycle! What a conflict!

Whatever! It was my turn, so I had to make my way to the makeshift stage. On my way, I pulled the mirror from my purse all rationally to sneak a peek at the bingo card. It was time to plan another score after all. Good thing, all sales dudes saw me taking a break to check my appearance while everybody was waiting for me. After all, appearances. Duh! After all, that bimbo thingie had its benefits. Duh!

"Ready for the new question?" I asked the experts after I had drawn a new card from the bowl and sat down on my moderation chair. "We all know it's important to handle sticky situations. So can you tell us 'bout your most successful sales tactics, like when you're short on time?"

I barely noticed reading the question out aloud, 'cause I was way more focused on the responses I tried to trigger. As a result, the insinuation totally escaped me too. Another sexual innuendo! Another blunder! Ugh!

"Most of all, you need to use the power of urgency and deadlines to get customers to take quick action." Anderson replied.

Strike!

I had taken a gamble and it was paying off. The company man had unknowingly done me a favor. What it was? Deadlines! It was right in the middle of the fourth row of the bingo grid. What I had to do? Cross-uncross my legs! Piece of cake... not! Why? Cause all the sales dude were staring at the stage. No way, I could pull it off undetected. As you might remember, I had already failed a bimbo move on stage before.

No matter what, I had to do it if I wanted to retain a chance of winning and quick. It was obvious that Shelly knew all the buzzwords on the bingo card and had all opportunities to land another score. I was really sweating bullets here 'cause in my woken state, it made me uncomfortable to be in the spotlight like that. Once again, where was my inner bimbo when I needed it, right? Oh jeez! I would have never believed to think like that, even less long for it.

Anderson had already answered the question, so my turn was coming to an end. Fortunately, Ortega was adding some of his wisdom. This was my last chance. I so wanted to close my eyes and blank the sales reps out. My leg felt like it was weighing a ton when I lifted it. I so wanted to be quick about it but was too afraid to get entangled in something and make it worse. That was why I slowly crossed my legs putting my left thigh over my right thigh. Surprisingly, Wilson had something to add, too. The moment he began talking, I uncrossed my legs. I had just placed my left foot on the ground when I got interrupted, leaving my legs spread wide.

"What was it again? Most frequent or most successful sales tactic?" The company man asked me out of a sudden.

Oh no! In my role as moderator, I had to react. At that, I totally forgot about my sitting position. Obviously, my multitasking skills were lost on me forever, no matter if it was Bimbo-me or Consultant-me at the steering wheel. Damnit! Re-reading the question, I remained in a manspread that would have made Mr. Weasel proud.

All eyes were on me, or more like, all eyes were on my crotch. No wonder, what with my short skirt and missing panties. Basically, I was delivering a look at my pussy on a silver platter. It must have been such a sexy sight, or more like, such a slutty sight. Actually, it felt like an inappropriate sight, or more like, a scandalous sight.

Without thinking about it, I kept my legs uncrossed until Wilson was finished talking about those boring sales tactics. Unconsciously, I must have wanted to give the sales reps the bestest reward ever. Damned bimbo habit! Nonetheless, I hastily crossed my right thigh over my left when Ortega took over the discussion. You could almost hear the sales dudes sighing in disappointment 'cause awesome show. You could almost hear me wincing 'cause disgrace. Luckily, I caught myself before that happened. Phew! Luckily, I had managed to score. Yay!

Miss Trophy 4 -- Miss Bimbo 2

The next bunch of questions went by without a hitch. I found it kinda strange that the three experts weren't using that many buzzwords. Especially Wilson looked the part of a dude bandying those phrases about endlessly. That had two effects, though. The whole fish bowl conversation was becoming more business like 'cause us ass-istants were getting pushed into the background. More importantly, I was getting antsy, 'cause I couldn't catch up on Blondie. Anyway, it was my turn to ask the final question.

"The bottom line is quite simple if I may summarize." I heard daddy closing the discussion. "You always have to keep your sales pitch customer centric."

At first, nobody really reacted. As I said, it had gotten boring. But then I saw Shelly standing at the snack table and frowning. That was when it hit me! I remembered 'customer centric' from the bingo card. No way in hell, I would lose out a second time! No way in hell, I would fail again! When I saw the secretary reaching up to do what blonde bitches do best, I reacted as quick as a cat.

Lifting my arm, I hectically started twisting and twirling my high pony. I began twirling a golden strand around my index finger slowly making my way down. Meanwhile, the three experts were getting up for the second smoke break and the attention turned away from the stage. I had only just been waiting for that to happen 'cause sneaky when woken.

With everybody occupied, it was the perfect moment. By now, I had reached the level of my nipples. Lightning quick, I slid my right hand inwards from my long chestnut-golden hair to my big, round boobies. I was doing the bimbo move by lightly stroking my nipple through my sky-blue uniform top. This time, it was me getting away with a cheap trick and nobody noticing it.

"Watch out, Jessy!" I suddenly heard Shelly screaming. "Whatta malfunction!"

Her shouting was loud enough for everybody to listen up. On top of that, she had deliberately mumbled her words, so it sounded more like 'wardrobe malfunction'. That was what caught the dudes' attention and made them look at the stage.

Caught by surprise, I froze like a deer in the headlights, or more like a slut in the spotlight. With everybody watching, I sat there like a girl caught with a hand in the cookie jar, or more like a skank caught with a hand on her tit. You won't believe the way my face flushed, like lit... gotcha girl... like to the roots of my hair. You won't believe how the sales reps' laughter affected me.

Trigger warning!

The laughter stoked my bimbo flame and pushed Bimbo-me back to the forefront, so much so that I brushed my nipple through my uniform way more enthusiastically. Gosh! I started bathing in the spotlight! Too much so, 'cause Ortega hurriedly called an end to the smoke break and instructed the participants to form three circles with the chairs. I wasn't too disappointed, though, 'cause I had made the next score.

Miss Trophy 4 -- Miss Bimbo 3

When the circles had been formed, the group exercise was about to begin. Ortega had divided the sales reps in three groups to brainstorm new sales strategies for the company. Our boss and the two company men took over the moderating roles with me ass-isting Wilson and Shelly ass-isting Anderson. Why? Cause the job was more complicated than reading questions. To nobody's surprise, they didn't trust me or Shelly with hard stuff like allocating speaking turns and summarizing ideas.

As there wasn't much to ass-ist, I had a chance to look up the intermediate results. I had checked three boxes in the same column, 'cause I had now added crossing-uncrossing my legs and touching my titties. Unfortunately, I had missed at least one box, 'cause I had been too smart for my own good. Duh!

By ill luck, Shelly hadn't been lazy either. As she had bent over one more time, she had checked three boxes in the same row. She was still in the lead and could finish the game with another score. That made my failure hurt even more. Umph!

Even though our roles had been reduced drastically, Anderson and Wilson still found a job for us ass-istants, never mind that it could barely be called a job. We had to stand next to our group's bulletin board. Whenever a dude wrote a note on a moderation card, he handed it over for us to pin it to the board.

The task was way more menial than the previous one, so much so that I instantly felt unchallenged. At the same time, my bimbo buzz had been fueled, what with all the spotlight and bimbo moves. That was why I saw an opportunity to get more of the sales dudes' attention by distracting them. Of course, it all happened subconsciously but the logic was as simple as it was compelling.

How I actually achieved it? With me letting my nail chains dangle and flash blatantly. With me using the tip of my golden, Leopard-print nails to grab the cards. With me acting all clumsy. Ya-nay! Every time the chains made me drop a card, I felt the bimbo buzz growing stronger. Every time the sales reps laughed at me, I felt my rationality fading. Trigger warning!

Actually, though, this wasn't good 'cause it distracted me from the next bingo score. On the other hand, it was good 'cause it helped me get in the mood to quickly perform the next bimbo move. Gosh! The dichotomy was driving me nuts! The contradiction was driving me frantic!

Whenever the dudes were debating, I was peeking over to Shelly's group, 'cause I was nervous about the next buzzword. What if it happened in her group? What if it scored her the win? Just then I noticed Mr. Squid getting up to write some stuff on a flip chart and Shelly sitting down on the free chair. Getting jumpy, I saw her uncrossing her legs. Getting panicky, I saw her crossing them. Oh no! Oh no, no, no! Another bimbo move! Another score!

Miss Trophy 5 -- Miss Bimbo 3

Damnit! Blondie was pulling away. I felt so helpless and powerless! I felt like crying and pouting! Silver lining? It hadn't been the right bimbo move so Shelly hadn't finished the row. Still, the victory was basically at her fingertips. What should I do? What could I do? I had tried acting clever. I had tried the smartass approach. Yet, it had done me no good. Truth be told, it had been a total failure.

I was getting desperate here! At the same time, my group was slowing down with their brainstorming. Not good, not good at all. Why? Cause the chances of the sales dudes dropping another buzzword decreased. It was now or never. Going all in on Bimbo-me was my last chance to win this thingie, right? Taking off my thinking cap and putting on my bimbo smile was my only hope, right? Right?!?

"This is, like, a small company, you know. I mean, no disrespect 'n all." I piped up when the men fell silent once more.

Surprised by my sudden input, the sales reps looked at me, or more like, Wilson and Mr. Reptile leered at my cleavage whereas Sharkboy and Mr. Meticulous didn't pay me no mind. Oh yay! I had their attention. Oh nay! My sexy assets had their attention.

"You want sex..." I forced myself to make an obvious blooper.

"I mean, you wanna succeed in the short term, don't you?" I spoke up. "Maybe, it's, like, an easier strategy, you know, to go for, like, the easy target. Fer shure!"

Oh dang! I was really trying hard here. I was really forcing myself to babble more bimboy than ever. It so wasn't coming easy, though. It so wasn't appearing natural. In response, all dudes looked but didn't talk. Actually, Wilson and my fellow alum continued leering at my boobies whereas Sharboy and Mr. Meticulous were staring at my face, or more like, my trout pout.

"Oh, c'mon boys! It should be you knowing the legalese term thingies, like totes, not the ass-istant." I tried to provoke them, which was kinda hard in between all that bimbo talk.

Still, no response. Still, more desperation on my part. From the corner of my eye, I saw Mr. Squid continuing to write words onto the flip chart. Any second, Shelly could score and get the victory. Any second, it could all be over. I had to go all in, no matter the consequences. I had to go with a tried and tested strategy, no matter the degradation.

"Okay, fine! Let me, like totally, give you an example, boys." I tried another approach.

It was really a shot in the dark 'cause I had no clue how to pull it off or where to go with it or whatever. Basically, I was hashing and rehashing stuff.

"What's the difference between a great ass-istant 'n a personal ass-istant?" I quickly asked before I thought better of it. "A good ass-istant says 'Good morning Boss', a personal ass-istant says 'It's morning Boss'."

Now, that got all the dudes' attention! Oh yay! Now, that made me look dumber than ever! Oh nay! No matter what, I couldn't waste time on consequences right now.

"If you said that joke about me, you know, what kinda strategy thingie would it be?" I hastily followed up with the important question before it got drowned out by their laughter.

"Ahahaha! Ahahaha!" The men started laughing anyhow.

It made me feel better 'cause trigger. However, they weren't answering my question. All the effort and all the degradation were in vain. Even Mr. Meticulous allowed himself a chuckle. I guess my silliness was too epic, so much so that the most petty-minded pedant got all macho too.

"Ahahaha! Ahahaha!" The sales reps continued laughing.

"Not much of a strategy thingie, you know. Just stating sum fact stuff, for real." Sharkboy didn't let that golden opportunity pass and delighted in mimicking me.

Ouch! The manipulative dude was hitting on a sore point. I still had to admit that it sounded true even if it wasn't what I was looking for. The dudes' laughter might have been stoking my bimbo flame, but it also made Consultant-me feel more stupid and more humiliated than ever at the same time. Damned contradiction!

"It's definitely a low-hanging fruit." My fellow alum chimed in.

There it was!

The one phrase that seemed to suit Bimbo-me best. I mean, making fun of Bimbo-me was a low-hanging fruit. Making Bimbo-me act slutty was a low-hanging fruit. More importantly, though, it was the one buzzword I had remembered from my bingo grid. The one buzzword that was missing to complete the column.

Enthusiastically, I grabbed a cuppa coffee from Mr. Weasel as if I was dying of thirst from all the giggling. Totally the opposite! Throwing caution to the winds, I lifted the spoon. Screwing up my eyes from revolt, I put it to my mouth and licked off the drops of coffee. After sucking on its head, I pulled it from my lips and pushed my tongue out to carefully lick out the small shallow bowl.

After taking a couple of sips for good measure, I puckered my lips for the total trout pout and pushed the silver handle between my lips. This was my grand finale or grand disgrace, depending on which of my inner selves you asked. Anyhow, it looked like sliding a sausage between two buns to make a hot dog, or more like sliding a handle between two overinflated lips to make a bimbo hawt dawg. It had been utterly stupid but effective at the train stop, and it was now. It had been utterly humiliating but stimulating then, and it was now.

Pushing the handle back and forth, I forced myself to slide my lips all along its length before popping the head back into my bee-stung mouth to give it a final suck. Eventually, I pushed the silver spoon out with a loud pop, placed it on the bottom plate and handed the cuppa coffee back to Mr. Weasel.

Mission accomplished! And graduated with honors for sure! I mean, there was no way, Mr. Reptile would expect a college grad to act like that, right? Oh yay! More importantly, I had just won the game! Oh yay, yay! Most importantly, I had earned a point in the out-please-ment center. Oh yay, yay, yay!
I was totally overjoyed, so much so that I was all smiley and cheery. But wait! There was a final obstacle to clear. There was one more snag. Which one? I had to announce my triumph loud and clear! How I was supposed to do that, you ask? Have you ever played bingo before? Duh!

I opened my mouth to shout at the top of my lungs and declare my victory. I stood there with my trout pout gaping and no sound coming out. Oh no! I was at a loss for words. I had my tongue tied in a knot. This was too much for Consultant-me to take. This was the final hurdle which the remaining ounces of integrity wouldn't let me clear.

"Bimbo!" It suddenly rang out.

The unexpected sound broke me out of my state of shock although I remained tongue-tied. Nonetheless, I managed to look over to Shelly's group. What I saw made my blood run cold. This couldn't happen! This mustn't happen! Even though it must have sounded like 'bingo' for the sales reps, Ortega and I knew that she was shouting something else.

Blondie clapped her hands as if she was pretending to celebrate the sales dudes finishing the exercise when she started singing the absurd song that was the final step to sealing her victory. So silly! So ridiculous! Looking to my boss, I saw him nodding as if he was giving a hat tip. It made me flinch as if he had slapped me in the face 'cause it was his sign that he was recognizing Shelly's victory! Oh no! Oh no, no, no!

I had finished first! I had scored the decisive point before Blondie! This was my victory and Shelly was stealing it away from me. I wanted to run over to our boss and tell him. I wanted to pipe up and announce the truth. I couldn't do it, though, 'cause it would only make matters worse.

After all, the young secretary hadn't stolen anything. Instead, the truth was too painful for me to admit to myself. I had fumbled the win away by myself, 'cause I had failed to declare my victory. My decency had deterred me. My professional attitude had hampered me. Too ironic to be true! Too ridiculous to be true!

In the meantime, Shelly continued her bimbo song 'cause she had come up with the silliest victory song ever. I couldn't imagine how stupid she must have felt. I didn't want to imagine how humiliated she must have felt. Nonetheless, she kept on singing albeit with a low voice.

Of course, I hated losing the bingo game 'cause consequences. All the same, I enjoyed not having to sing that stupid song 'cause disgrace. To my surprise, it was over quicker than expected 'cause Shelly only sang the chorus once. To my astonishment, the sales reps got back to business really fast as if the singing had been just another workshop activity like a loosening up exercise or something.

"Ain't that cheers 'n smiles." A sales rep from Blondie's group exclaimed when she stopped.

"Oh, you know how it is. I was just so happy that you finished the exercise. I totally had to cheer 'n sing." She tried to explain the silly action away.

Just in time, Ortega called an end to the group exercise before the sales reps could ask more unwanted questions. There was only one thing left to do. Wilson had to honor the sales champion of the year. They even had a winner certificate and all. One after the other, the two most successful sales reps were called up to Wilson and handed the certificate. The whole show was a bit too pompous for my taste. The winners, by contrast, were no surprise to me. The first place took Sharkboy and the second place took Mr. Weasel. Of course, two sales reps I had served. Of course, two sales dudes who had treated me the worst.

Concluding the workshop, Wilson gave a few closing words. During his speech, he announced that the hotel stay included free admission to the wellness area and all trade floors. The way, he emphasized it made it sound like the main event. For sure, it lifted the sales dudes' spirit, like they needed to get cheered up after all the bimbotainment us ass-istants' had provided during the twerkshop. No matter what, the prospect of some wellness made them quickly leave the conference room. Not everybody left, though. When I wanted to walk out, Ortega stopped me.

"I'm afraid, the loser has to clear up the room indeed." He instructed me.

Letting my head hang, I didn't even wince in response 'cause the shame of defeat was still burning too hot. Instead, I turned around and started tidying up the place. Oh wow! From consultant to hostess to scrubwoman, from Mrs. Professional to Mrs. Bimbo to Mrs. Mop. What a progression!

While I packed the moderation material back into the presentation case, I was ranting and raving at myself. I was extremely incensed and disappointed with the loss, so much so that I cursed myself under my breath. Actually, I was so angry that I felt like slapping myself in the face. As I had always said: True competitor!

You can hold your head high 'cause you performed admirably in a desperate situation! You're a fighter! That was what Consultant-me said. You actually lost due to a totally misplaced façade of decency and ultra outdated morality. So a hypocrite! That was what Bimbo-me said. All told, the loss had clearly proven one thing. Consultant-me wasn't the right choice to get the job done. Yet, I was more than hesitant to let Bimbo-me loose, not after that abysmal stupidity and disgrace during the train ride. Never ever!

When I was almost finished packing up, I noticed that I wasn't alone. Anderson was leaning in the door all leisurely, watching me conduct my menial task, or more like leering at my curvy booty. What was he doing here? What else did he want from me? After all, he had already taken the external ass-istant for a test drive and emptied his balls, right? That didn't seem to matter to the company man when he slowly stepped into the room and closed the door all hammy.

"Oh honey, I didn't hear you singing." He said suggestively. "Maybe, that's a skill we can hone."

Jeez! I so wasn't keen on being alone with this sophisticated sexist. I so wasn't keen on another lecture. Once again, however, the bald dude quickly stepped up to me, basically getting in my face. Oh dang! He wouldn't let me pass. Oh darn! His hands were in my neckline and on my boobs in a heartbeat.

What choice did I have? After all, I had just lost the bingo game and was trailing in the out-please-ment center. So I couldn't risk getting bad-mouthed by one of the company men. I couldn't risk another penalty point.

Letting my knockers go, Anderson fetched a chair and placed it right in front of me. The way he sat down, it looked like he was waiting for a lap dance in a strip club. Oh shoot! More than ever, it made me feel like a soon-to-be stripper, especially after that loss. A notion that made me giggle hysterically. Oh jeez! Bimbo-me was knocking on the door already. Another patronizing remark by the bald dude and the floodgates might open. I had to get the jump on the situation. Otherwise, all bets might be off. That was why I slowly started gyrating my hips. At least, this allowed me to keep a certain degree of control.

Oh wow! With my motions becoming increasingly smooth, I was really getting in the mood to bust out some stripper moves here. Uh-oh! Bimbo-me was lurking! No matter what, I ran the long, Leopard-print tips of my 'inelegant, harlot-ish' fake nails up my hips and sides until I reached my sideboobs. From there, I slid my nail tips along the golden trim of my neckline. When my fingers met in the middle, I grabbed the fabric and pushed it down, letting my bouncy boobies flop out.

Circling my nipples with my nail tips, I continued until my boobnobs had become hard as diamonds. Fully utilizing my perky teats, I clasped each one with two fingers so the connecting gold chain hung right above them. Pushing my fingers into my tit meat, I deformed my juicy juggs like some flesh pillows making them bulge super enticingly. Slowly letting my fingers slide down, I literally hung the gold chains on my hard nips until my perky teats flicked temptingly.

My titty presentation worked without a hitch, or more like way better than my project pitch. So on to the next asset. Sliding my hands down my tummy, I reached the golden trim of my hemline. Grabbing it, I slowly pulled it up inch by inch while shaking my booty epically. When my skirt was around my hips, I spread my legs wide and ran the tip of my porn claws up my thighs. Flashing my fakest smile, I pushed my right hand between my legs and slid my finger over my pussy lips. Spreading my pussy lips, I revealed my precious pink meat and alluringly played with my little clitty. All along, I gyrated my hips like dancing to an imaginary beat.

The pussy presentation had worked without a hitch, or more like way better than my project pitch. I was ready to clap and cheer about that achievement, 'cause it had paved the way for Bimbo-me to win the struggle and gain the upper hand although Consultant-me hadn't been silenced by far.

The presentations had been the easy part, though. It was only getting harder from here on out. Actually, I had been overjoyed to avoid the next part 'cause not having to sing that silly song had been the only good thingy about my loss. Now, I had to do it even in defeat. Totally degrading! Totally ridiculous! That was why I had to pluck up all my courage despite Bimbo-me at the steering wheel.

"Bimbo!" I eventually shouted as fake and cheerfully as I could to celebrate my successful bimbo presentations.

Jumping on the spot in fake joy, my big boobies bounced epically, so much so that they almost slapped me in the face. Umph! Lifting my right hand, I grasped my high pony and began twirling the hair around my finger. All along, I started dancing on the spot and singing in the highest-pitched voice ever.

"I'm a bimbo girl... in a bimbo world..."

Continuing my super seductive dance moves, I let my chestnut-golden tresses go. Instead, I spread my fingers and held my hands in fronta me, putting my plastic nails in the spotlight like a show-off. Keeping the focus on my fake-assery, I ran my nail tips along my super big golden triangle hoops and golden cuff bracelets.

"Life in plastic... it's fantastic..."

Lifting my arms, I grasped my juicy juggs and jabbed my fingers into my soft titty meat. While I continued singing, I squeezed my titty flesh in rhythm, following Anderson's example.

"You can squash my pair... undress me everywhere..."

When I had started singing that silly song, my humiliation had been palpable. My shame had been blatantly evident. The longer I sang, the more I got into the groove and the more naturally I moved. Ya-nay!

"That song sounds like it was written for you, honey." Mr. Baldie praised me for the first time.

Surprise!

"We should continue working on your stage show, though." He instantly resumed his role as lecturer. "With a few tweaks here 'n there, it might become something you could use to forge a career."

Surprise!... not.

The condescending tone was as palpable as my embarrassment. This time, however, I didn't roll my eyes but only giggled in response. Following his grant gesture, I stepped up to him while I started over with the chorus. While singing, he motioned me to turn around and sit on his lap.

Holy moly! The noble dude was really training me as a stripper now. So preposterous! So grotesque! He was also letting me sing that stupid song in an endless loop. So wicked! So mischievous!

Anyhow, standing between his legs, I got low until my hands were near the floor, or more like, the tips of my 'inelegant, harlot-ish' fake nails touched the ground. Shaking my booty, I started twerking epically near his crotch. Over and over, I pushed back so my ass rubbed against his private parts.

"I'm a bimbo girl... in a bimbo world..."

Super seductively, I continued shaking my butt as I moved to his stomach and all the way up to his face. With my booty hovering in front of Anderson's bald head, I twerked anew, so much so that my buns bounced against one another, literally clapping to my singing, or more like rattling most obscenely as Consultant-me cursed.

Straightening up, I turned around, gifting the company dude with a provocative smile by raising my painted, dramatically arched eyebrows, or more like my 'inelegant, harlot-ish' fake brows. For sure, I didn't need much training for a lap dance! For sure, Bimbo-me was in the driver's seat now although Consultant-me continued erratically shooting bolts of shame through my body.

"Life in plastic... it's fantastic..."

Continuing the song, I stood in fronta Mr. Baldie and moved my hips in a figure eight, moving my hands from the air to my titties and down my sides. Stepping between his spread legs, I placed my hands on his knees and moved towards his face until my flesh pillows almost slapped him in the face. From there, I swiftly lowered myself making my juicy juggies jiggle massively from the sudden movement. I only stopped when my big boobies hovered right above his crotch. For a full chorus, I continued this ultra tempting and über-tantalizing stripper move until the company dude looked like he couldn't take much more.

"You can squash my pair... undress me everywhere..."

Finally, I sat on his lap, wrapping my legs around the back of the chair for support. Keeping my left arm on his shoulder, I totally bent back. Sweeping my free right arm backwards, I kept on moving downwards until I was basically lying supine on his legs while I sang the verse. That way, my funbags were totally front and center, or more like displayed as an open pleasure ground with two mountains as Consultant-me faintly cursed.

By now, I was über-eager to prove the bald dude that I didn't need another lesson. That was why I moved back up and pushed my big boobies into his face, slapping his cheeks with my fleshy pillows in rhythm to the song.

"Fill me up... make it tight... I'm your dolly..."

Reaching the chorus, I bent back again. Even further this time until my free arm touched the floor. That way, my pelvis totally gyrated against his crotch. As I continued moving my hips in circles, I was basically jerking the dude's cock with my body. Yay!

Gracefully slipping off his lap, I strutted around the chair. Standing behind Mr. Baldie I leaned over his shoulder. Letting my nail tips run over his belly, I softly sang the second verse into his ear super seductively.

"I can act... like a slut... I can beg on my knees..."

Stepping back in fronta the company man, I was ready to hop on his lap when I noticed that the bald dude had sneakily pulled his cock from his pants. What a clever dude! Of course, Bimbo-me was way too powerful for that audacity to stop me although a major pinch of shame surged through me.

No matter what, his hard shaft easily slipped into my cunny 'cause all the stripping and dancing had made my pussy super leaky. Sitting on his thick member in cowgirl, I totally had to do what cowgirls do, right? That was why I literally started riding him like a bull. First in slow-motion but quickly picking up speed until I was bouncing around on the dude's hard cock, so much so that my juicy juggies continuously slapped him in the face. By now, I had stopped singing but groaned in rhythm.

"Oh oh oh oh ooohhh... oh oh oh oh ooohhh ooohhh..."

Even though the company dude had already cum before, he couldn't hold out for long, which Bimbo-me totally celebrated as a compliment for my stripper skills and Consultant-me bemoaned as a devaluation of my professional skills.

No matter what, Anderson quickly started huffing and puffing until he eventually pushed me off his lap. As soon as I hit the ground, he stood up and stepped in fronta me. Towering over my small kneeling frame, he totally blasted me, like massively.

Oh wow! For his second cumshot of the day, it was another monster load although the jizz was more diluted. His first spurts sprayed his spunk all around my mouth and on my chin whereas his second cum splash totally painted the bridge of my nose in white cream.

"Not bad for an amateur. But always remember, honey, good girls swallow." He couldn't stop himself.

Once again, he was super quick to run off as soon as he had gotten his release. As I knew that Anderson's 'Stripper Course' had lasted way longer than a usual clear-up job, I had to hurry up too. Swiftly and superficially, I rearranged my outfit and cleaned my face before heading out.

Fortunately, I didn't have to search long before finding Ortega leisurely sitting in a seating area chatting with Wilson and Shelly while sipping a whiskey. On my arrival, Wilson excused himself and walked away although he stared at my face in an odd way. Just the same, my boss and his secretary stared at me, the Latino with an amused smirk and Blondie with a condescending look.

Kinda rattled, I started feeling my cheeks and chin as if I had a blotch on my face or stuff. Oh no! Oh no, no, no! I actually did, or more like I still had cum painting the bridge of my nose. I had made a sperm-walk through the hotel! So degrading! So scandalous! So the public disgrace! So the attention catcher! So the quarrel between my inner bimbo and business woman!

With only his two bimbo ass-istants left, it was time to check the final score. Our boss had us recount every point and every bimbo move before crossing out the field in the bimbo grid. Jeez! Retelling it almost felt as degrading as doing it.

In the end, the result was as close as it gets. No matter what, Shelly had still won 'cause she had sung the bimbo song first. Gosh! You should have seen the winner's smile spreading over her face. I had never witnessed anything that bitchy and catty and spiteful.

Making matters worse, the smug exec pulled another ring from his briefcase. Once again, it was gold and shiny. Once again, the jewelry cast a spell over me. Damn it! My jealousy was palpable. My envy was blatant. My bimbo buzz was roaring.

"That's for finishing the bimbo grid first, I have to say." Ortega explained while slipping that fabulous piece of jewelry over Shelly's left ring finger.

Blondie's winner smile increased a couple of watts when she held the bling-bling in fronta my face to boast. It made her look way more bitchy and catty and spiteful although that seemed barely possibly. I wanted to slap her in the face so badly.

"And this one is for singing the bimbo song indeed." Ortega announced, pulling another ring from his briefcase.

Oh wow! For a moment, I was totally stunned 'cause the ring was really broad without any embellishments, making it more brash and shiny than all the other jewelry. The next moment, though, I was totally depressed, 'cause I remembered that the present was for Shelly. Oh dang!

"I was pleased to hear, you gave a private show to perform the song." He said while he took my hand.

Just then I saw that he had pulled out two rings. They were identical 'cause we had both performed the identical song. You won't believe how giddy and overjoyed I felt. I was getting a present, too. I so deserved it for my efforts. I so deserved it for being the bestest bimbo.

The smug exec slipped the ring over my thumb, once again placing it on an unusual finger. I was really a trendsetter here! Now, I had a double-knuckle ring on my middle finger and a broad thumb ring on my right hand. Of course, the rings perfectly went along with those nail chains. Basically, my hands were piling on the jewelry, like I was a display dummy in a jewelry store or more like a cheap trailer park stripper. Tihi! Umph!

Gosh! I was really happy, so much so that I barely noticed the smug exec pulling out his scissors. Oh no! The punishment for losing the bingo game was still awaiting me. In my joy, I had totally forgotten about it. So stupid! I mean, a few shiny rocks were enough to distract me from the important things in life. Get your priorities straight, girl! As before, Ortega held the scissors right in fronta my face in the most hammy gesture ever. I wanted to close my eyes to blank out the total ruination of my newly-bought outfit, but I was too curious.
Grabbing the short sleeve covering my right shoulder, the Latino got to work, cutting three horizontal slashes into the sky-blue fabric. Stepping to my left side, he proceeded to do the same to the other short sleeve. My boss wasn't done with that, however. After making me lift my arms, he cut five horizontal slashes into both sides of my outfit from hip to armpit. Oh my fucking gawd! He had really shredded the top, so much so that there was as much skin as fabric showing on my shoulders and sides, so much so that my sideboobs were flashing through the material whenever I moved my arms. The eye-catcher! The indecent exposure!

With the punishment dished out, Ortega summed up the intermediate results for the out-please-ment center, which were more than depressing. Shelly had won the exercise selection, achieved the bingo victory, and sang the silly bimbo song. So she had earned 3 points in total. I would have never expected the bitch to be that good. Shoot! On the other hand, I hadn't exactly covered myself in glory. To everybody's surprise, however, Ortega counted my private singing as a pity point. It seemed totally outta character for the smug bastard, but apparently, he wanted to keep the race interesting. Anyway, it brought the score to 4 points for Miss Trophy and 2 points for Miss Bimbo. Not awesome! Not by a long shot! But not the end of the world yet.

"Well, I have been informed that the sales champions receive a special reward in addition to that nice certificate." Our boss became serious again. "I was so bold to offer the service, indeed."

"As they say, the loser takes it all." He stated. "It is thus your turn to provide the extra service, Miss Bimbo."

"You manage to satisfy the two champions and you might get an extra point if I dare say so." He quickly added before I had a chance to protest. "It goes without saying that the extra service needs to be creative and special."

That offer totally took the wind out of my sails. I wanted nothing to do with those two douchebags. However, I couldn't miss out on an extra point, not with me trailing by 2 points...

*to be continued*