--- Sunday ---
Beyond all imagination and all measure! Beyond good and evil! Such a consensus!
Turmoil and tumult! Turbulence and trouble! Such a consistency!
Over and out! All done and bygone! Such a distinctiveness!
What had happened? I had won the carnival cum-petition to secure my stay at the matinée. In doing so, I had sustained my chance to put a new plan into motion and consolidate my future. That was all well and good, but it didn't really matter. More importantly, I had lost my moretta mask, which had resulted in my identity getting exposed to the high society elite.
HORROR OF HORRORS!
This was the biggest reveal ever! This was the final nail in the coffin! This was the end of my business career! This was a fatal turning point!
As of now, I had nothing left but my looks. The only certificate that mattered were my extra expensive, extrawhordinary endowments. My future achievements were getting measured in cumloads only. My future services were performed with my fuckholes only. Totally definite! Totally final!
"Oh well, you remember Miss Addams, don't you?" Ortega seemed kinda indifferent when he noticed his guests' astonishment.
"To whom it may concern, she has chosen to leave the hard grind of daily work behind to pursue her dreams, indeed." He explained in his overbearing smugness.
My dreams? Seriously? In all seriousness, my archrival sounded swankier than ever. He instantly used the chance to cast a slur at me, suggesting that I wasn't cut out for long working hours. No way! At the same time, he put himself into a positive light to look like the perfect mover and shaker. As if!
Whatever! I had other problems to deal with 'cause the ultimate revelation caused my emotional pendulum to lash about wildly. As a result, my mood changed at the drop of a hat, constantly swinging back and forth from gushy glee to scandalized stir.
"Indeed, some people might find it an odd choice, but Miss Bolt-on has always dreamed of being the planet's prime pornstar." The Latino manager elaborated in his typical hyperbole. "A valid decision, I have to admit, considering her limited skills as a consultant."
Prime pornstar? Really seriously? In earnest, it might have crossed my mind after the adult convention, so there was an element of truth to it, which made me flash a beaming smile. Still, the insinuation was totally outrageous, which made me clasp my arms underneath my jumbo juggs in a posture of indignation. What a contradiction! What a discrepancy!
"Indeed, we should applaud Miss Bolt-on for being so bold and brave." Ortega continued completely unpertubed. "After all, she spent plenty of work and money on self-improvement, I have to give her that."
"For, who remembers her previous plain Jane looks?" He took another dig at me. "Aren't we always droning on about lifelong learning? Here we have Jessie Foole leading by example, I have to admit."
Plain Jane looks? Totally seriously? In all honesty, his vile remark was beyond insolent. All the same, it was worded like a compliment, as if he were praising my upgrades. Unwittingly, the faux praise made me clap my hands all cheerfully. Nonetheless, I also rolled my eyes super scandalized. What a contrast! What a dichotomy!
Despite the Latino's joviality, however, the guests, or more like my ex-colleagues and former business fellows, had fallen silent. Apparently, they were just as shocked and perplex as me. Evidently, they were speechless with amazement.
BANG!
Ortega had noticed his guests' distraction, too. That was why he lifted the toy gun into the air and pulled the trigger. The loud noise was enough to grab everybody's attention and direct all focus back to the smug exec.
"Now ladies and gentlemen, if I may remind you, this is a carnival." The host got back to his master of ceremonies schtick. "This was quite the amusing aperitif, I have to say. But it is time for us to enjoy the games ourselves."
With a pompous gesture, Ortega tried to dispel the pervasive state of shock and get his guests back into a party mood. That turned out harder than the smug bastard might have expect, however. In the end, the high society members seemed more flabbergasted than expected.
"As you know, we are no barbarians around here. We shall thus give Miss Matador a proper send-off, indeed." My archrival tried to seize everybody's attention. "If you feel like our pretty pinup deserves special consideration for her valiant effort, feel free to give a generous tip, of course."
Oh jeez! Ortega was such a narcissist! He couldn't share the spotlight, not even for a second. What was more, he was really trying to come across as an honorable host, simulating sympathy to connect with those potential LGZ contacts. As if anybody would ever buy that bullshit! Anyhow, as the social elite was all by themselves, they didn't have to pretend to be generous in any way. That was why they basically sent the Latina chick packing without any tips or appreciation. So unfair! So arrogant!
"Certainly, we are no deviants here." The Latino boss picked up where he had left off. "We thus have several non-erotic games, such as the tin-can alley. You will also find select card games for the distinguished gamblers in the bell tent, I'm proud to announce."
Oh sheesh! I barely listened to the pompous ass, 'cause my emotions were totally outta control, continuously swaying back and forth from one extreme to the other. All the same, I realized that this was a chance for me. In fact, the last exposure had only reinforced the effect of the first revelation. Like a hot iron, it had burned my priorities into my mind. No more bimbecile deflection! No more beautifool diversions!
No matter how exciting the next super slut show might be, I had to stay alert and find a way to use the carnival games to my advantage. No matter how outrageous my rival's next conceited actions might be, I had to be attentive and find a way to implement a new plan. After all, there was only one thing that was important here! I had to derail the budding business venture between Ortega and Perez. No more theatrical antics! No more temper tantrums!
"Don't you worry, ladies and gentlemen, our victorious court jester is going to help us check out the main carnival games, I'm glad to tell you." The smug exec continued reveling in his hypocrisy.
"Since we only have one of our lovely pinups left, you have to be so kind and choose her first booth, I'm afraid." My archrival continued in total disregard of me and my opinion.
Oh gosh! As the vict-whore, I should have a say in the next game, shouldn't I? Not according to Ortega. So unfair! So presumptuous! Once more, my archrival was a step ahead of me. Once more, he had checkmated me before I had been able to concentrate my efforts. Once more, he had managed to rope me in for the next game before I had been able to socialize. Dang it!
Just then I noticed that one half of the social elite had already left to occupy themselves with the card games in the bell tent. What a scandal! What a disrespect! Despite my identity verification, the high society members weren't that intrigued by me and my transformation. Despite my prime performance, the distinguished guests weren't that mesmerized by me and my bimbofication. Holy fudge! Only half of the posh patrons remained glued to their seats. Worse than that, it was the half that consisted of Ortega's inner circle for the most part. Damn it!
"The 'Fun Stage' or the 'Wheel of Fortune', which one shall it be?" The Latino boss asked into the round. "For a prime pornstar, the stage might be the better fit, indeed. For a dummy doll, however, it might be the better choice to let a wheel make the decisions, in fact. Oh my, that sounds like a difficult decision, I have to say!"
Holy shoot! More nasty taunts, more emotional stings! It totally added fuel to the whirlwind of feelings beleaguering me. After the recent developments, however, my emotional pendulum wasn't swinging back and forth between the extremes anymore. Instead, it was spinning all around me. That was why I remained calm in the eye of the hurricane with bimbo bliss covering me like a warm blanket. All the same, bouncy breeziness and overblown outrage swirled around me simultaneously.
As of shortly, Ortega's nasty comments would have totally unhinged me and made me do something extreme. As of now, however, my gushy glee made me cheer while the scandalized stir made me fume. Thereby, the hybrid expressions co-occurred, counterbalancing each other. As a result, each emotion kept the other from getting outta hand, to the point that the bimbo balance filled my body with pleasure and kept my mind lucid. What a combination! What an equilibrium!
This was the true B.I.M.B.O. The Bouncy Insatiable Monster-titted Barbie Obsessed. It all made sense now. It presumed being a vivid sparkplug with a voracious appetite for attention and sex. It entailed mega tits and barbie looks like a cosmetically enhanced and gussied-up glamour doll. It required being obsessed with all things sex and fashion. However, it didn't mean being dumb or ignorant. I didn't have to be stupid to dress provocatively and enjoy being treated like an object of desire. I didn't have to be stupid to be submissive and crave degradation in a sexual context.
