The problem was money, as usual. There was more than one kind of pit in motorsports, and the whole industry was, at the end of the day, a huge money sink. For people like Ms. Park’s new drivers, contrary to what Vanessa might believe, the only real winning move was not to play. Yet the business was also a playground to the truly wealthy—those individuals who were smart enough and rich enough to not need government subsidies and social media to feel important. They were important.

Those kinds of people moved in and out of blowing their considerable fortunes on wasteful things like racing and gambling for the same reason politicians played golf: it was The Thing to Do. That made it a potential gold mine, if you knew how to exploit it. Like Ms. Park.

There was no shortage of old money fans ready to see an uppity bitch like Vanessa, with delusions of grandeur, or a plucky nobody like Kit, with ideas above their station, put back in their place. Which was to say: at the end of their cocks. Despite their own delusions that they stood above and apart from the masses, everyone wanted the same thing.

Ms. Park knew Kit and Vanessa would never be allowed to succeed in that world. Not following a path that would ever make them happy, at least. They could try their hardest, but they would have been fleeting entertainment at best and publicly disgraced and discarded at worst. Someone with an axe to grind and too much cash to burn would drum up some scandal or another to make them into laughing stocks, or otherwise destroy their careers and reputations in the end. It was better this way. At least now, they would both be happy.

Ms. Park stroked the hair of her two prized employees, noting the warmth of their flushed cheeks pressed against either side of her chest. Kit and Vanessa were leaned up against her limply in the back of a limousine currently piloted by another employee, almost as voluptuous as the drooling duo. Ms. Park didn’t bother to wipe away their mess; they would only make more before the car reached its destination. Better to keep them comfortable as they enjoyed the latest formula of Ms. Parks’ perfume wafting lazily about their heads.

“We’re nearly there, Ms. Park,” came the voice of her chauffeur over the open privacy screen.

“Take us around the block once, will you?” her employer replied. “These two aren’t quite finished yet.”

The chauffeur nodded with their usual, placid smile and steered gently to the left. The smooth momentum pressed Kit that much harder into Ms. Park’s breast, bringing out a small moan from the racer. Vanessa, who had been pulled away from Ms. Park by the same process, whimpered slightly instead.

Poor girl. She was much more bearable this way, but it was hard not to feel a tiny pang of guilt for making the once staunchly independent debutante so utterly dependent on her new owner. There was simply no way to completely break a sense of entitlement like that; you had to twist her competitive drive to more productive ends instead. At least Kit’s fragile self-esteem had been easier to sand down and resculpt from scratch. They were both quite lucky Ms. Park had gotten to them before anyone else, frankly.

And, if anyone was going to profit off their downfall, it might as well be her.

She put her arm around Vanessa’s shoulder and pulled the drug-addled woman back toward her. There was a cheerful murmur as some preprogrammed mantra swirled back around to the conscious hemisphere of Vanessa’s thoughts, snapping the executive from her pondering—as well as Kit and Vanessa from their shared dream. They were just beginning to rouse as the limo pulled up to its final destination: a rather large mansion, nestled away behind high fences and topiary. The chauffeur parked them by the front entrance, where winding rows of attendees smoked and laughed and milled their way into the building. Each wore fine dresses, suits, and other configurations of fabric to broadcast their wealth.

Ms. Park watched the shoal through the limousine’s window as they funneled into the building, long nails gliding through her employees’ hair. The sudden lack of sonorous motion woke the racers completely, blinking up into their owner’s hungry gaze, their own expressions dazed and dull-eyed. Their gawking, pumped-up lips painted with gold lipstick continued to dribble down the sides of Ms. Park’s breasts, exposed as they were in the slinky gold dress she wore. Her racers, of course, wore only their latest uniforms: golden sling bikinis pulled taut across their shoulders and tits, riding deep between their recently inflated cheeks and chests. The fabric wasn’t even thick enough to cover the barbell ends of Kit’s nipple piercings.

Their fingers and toes were painted in a similar shade, accentuated by matching pairs of high heels and gold bangles at the ends of their haphazardly fallen limbs. Gold eyeshadow and a touch of glitter limned their faces to complete the ensemble.

“Wakey, wakey, Kit.” Ms. Park smiled down over a pair of glasses. While she usually wore contacts, the people she was working with today expected a certain image. “We’ve made it to your debut competition!” She brought a finger under Kit’s chin, finally closing their mouth. Kit only offered a confused look and a satisfied giggle in response. Good.

“And clean up your mess, Vanessa.” She held out a gold handkerchief for the smaller woman. 

“Excuse me, I really don’t—” Vanessa started. Then she caught sight of Kit’s smiling, satisfied face past Ms. Park’s shoulder. “Yes, Ms. Park.”

“Ah, ah, ah!” Ms. Park added. She stroked Kit’s hair even as Vanessa began to diligently wipe her own saliva off of her owner. “I heard that hesitation. We agreed that losers clean up without complaint. I’m afraid that’s another point for Kit and another last place finish for you, Vanessa.”

Vanessa huffed, but there was another sound in her breath besides frustration. She squeezed her thighs tightly together as the unexpected reminder of just how far beneath her employer and even her rival she still found herself. She was such a loser. 

Why did that thought make her squirm?

Ms. Park took that moment to tip Vanessa’s chin up with one finger. Despite this, Vanessa’s mouth only opened wider as her breathing quickened further.

“I believe you just lost speaking privileges until we’re all inside. Let’s put that mouth of yours to better use for the time being.”

She raised her handkerchief to Vanessa’s face, then appeared to think for a moment, before putting it back away. Instead, she snapped her fingers to claim the chauffeur’s attention.

“Take off your panties, dear,” she ordered.

“Yes, Ms. Park,” the chauffeur replied. She removed one hand from the steering wheel to reach below and came back up with a pair of red, lacy, and obviously damp underwear. Ms. Park took them between the same two fingers she had snapped and, with the rest, shoved the slick panties between Vanessa's lips.

“You can use these this time,” Ms. Park said. “Back to it.”

Vanessa looked silently aghast, but didn’t dare risk another reprimand. Another loss. Something inside her told her she had to keep trying. Had to resist her desire to just give up and give in to the growing warmth between her own legs.

You have to keep trying , the familiar voice echoed. Or else it won’t feel so good. 

Instead, she began slowly wiping at Ms. Park again—using the panties this time. She bobbed her head up and down along the length of the owner’s breast and shoulder, picking up speed as her newfound closeness filled her nose with the woman’s intoxicating perfume, intermingling with the stink of a stranger’s undergarments.

This was humiliating! Not to mention futile. Wiping Ms. Park “clean” this way only spread the mess further. It was an impossible task—ceaseless, repetitive failure.

Thoughts of propriety and even making up for her various inadequacies melted into foggy bliss as she lost herself in her work.

While her employee finished, Ms. Park snapped her fingers to signal their driver. The chauffeur exited the limo, bending over deeper than she needed to open the passenger door on Vanessa’s side. She greeted Ms. Park with a dizzy smile under thick, blonde hair—her double-breasted gold uniform struggling to keep her own breasts contained.

Ms. Park pushed Vanessa’s head back and sent her toppling clumsily out of the vehicle. Their escort managed to catch her before she tumbled onto the cobbled ground. Kit was afforded a more graceful exit, as Ms. Park took them gingerly by the hand and guided them out, finally wiping herself clean with the stored handkerchief.

While she did, the chauffeur prepared the next set of gifts for the two racers: a pair of featureless, pitch-black racing helmets dangled at the end of her fingers. 

“Your little photoshoot was a roaring success,” Ms. Park said. “Our subscribers were quite impressed with your debut as the new faces of Oberhoff!”

“Sub… Sub-scribe-ers?” Kit asked, before a giggle overtook whatever questions they had. “That’s funny. I’m kinda subby, too. O-Oh! Should I, like, be saying that stuff out loud?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ms. Park added. “You see, while we’re all quite impressed with your work so far, we also need to ensure your fans don’t only think of you as pretty faces .”

On cue, the chauffeur turned the helmets upside down to reveal a detail neither Kit nor Vanessa had ever seen on such equipment before. Each helmet was customized with a loose collar of leather circling the underside---matching bands of black carrying wedges of gold metal at the back.

“Pretty!” Kit interjected. “These look super duper fancy! But, um, what are the choker-y parts for?”

Vanessa, of course, said nothing—her mouth still stuffed full of cloth and spit—but her eyes betrayed a similar level of confusion.

“These helmets are the last part of your new uniforms,” Ms. Park explained. “They were specially designed for maximum safety as well as to complement your new style, while marking you as Oberhoff prop—that is to say, employees.”

“Ooh, that’s totes smart! The normal ones are, like, so boring. And they’re even got gold on them, just like you, Ms. Park!”

“Precisely,” Ms. Park agreed. “Would you do the honors, Vanessa?”

“Mmghh,” Vanessa managed. “Bmmnff!”

Ms. Park didn’t wait. She pressed five fingers to a helmet’s reflective front plate as she pushed it snugly down over Vanessa’s face, sealing her head inside, panties and all. Their chauffeur moved smoothly behind her fellow driver to tug the leather straps tight across Vanessa’s throat—at last sealing the brunette inside with a very final-sounding click of a key turning within the gold lock of the built-in collar. The helmet would be impossible to remove without unlocking it first. Vanessa teetered backwards into the other woman, arms sticking down straight in mild surprise.

Ms. Park added: “We can’t have our star performers accidentally losing their safety equipment on their very first race!”

“O-Oh,” Kit stammered. “That’s, like… Are you sure that’s— Mgnh!”

Kit quickly received the same treatment: the form-fitting pressure of hard plastic and leather sealing them away. That wasn’t all, though. Now that the helmet was in place, they could hear the music. Soft. Slow. Comforting. But also… bubbly. Bright!

Fun .

Each helmet sported small headphones to pump familiar sounds into the duo’s minds, which were already descending back to their lowest levels of independent activity since the photoshoot. Perhaps even deeper, if R&D could still be trusted. They still had their wits, of course, but their scruples were quite a different story.

Ms. Park locked Kit’s helmet into place, just as she had done with Vanessa. Her purse swallowed the key and, with it, any sense of freedom for her newest hires.

“Good lord,” called a husky, boisterous voice. “Fresh meat is looking good this month, Zee. These Aurum shindigs never disappoint.”

“Sarah.” Ms. Park greeted the newcomer professionally. In turn, the enormous woman leaned forward in her form-fitting skirt suit to kiss Ms. Park on each cheek. A burning cigar, dangling from one side of the woman’s mouth, just narrowly avoided singeing Ms. Park both times. Besides her muscles, Sarah also carried a close-cut crop of silver hair and ruby-painted lips along a wicked crescent of a smile, as if all the world was a joke she had permitted herself to laugh at.

“You sure know how to pick ‘em,” said Sarah. She was looking at Kit and Vanessa in equal measure, sizing up the cuts. “You remembered I like my girls soft, too.”

“Aurum International does not sit idly by and wait for the best,” Ms. Park countered. “We make the best.”

“Right,” Sarah said skeptically. “Like this new ‘Oberhoff’ scam. Fancy cars aren’t really my thing, but I’ll try anything once. Especially if it’s one of your ideas, Zee.”

Sarah licked her lips and made no attempt to avert her gaze from Ms. Park’s chest, gazing longingly at the team owner as if she herself was the prize to be won that evening.

“I assure you Oberhoff is a perfectly legitimate subsidiary, just like all the others,” Ms. Park chided. “Not to mention, it's too early to be making so many assumptions. At least have a drink first. My employers and I may not wait idly, but only time will tell if you can win out over our other competitors tonight.”

“These two here?” Sarah punctuated the question by sinking thick fingers deep into the yielding flesh of her prey, squeezing so deep into Kit and Vanessa’s ass cheeks that fat poured between her fingers. “You bet that ripe little ass of yours I’m taking ‘em both home.”

Kit and Vanessa might have yelped inside their helmets, but not a sound escaped. No show of scandal or embarrassment slipped past the subliminals—just instinctive subservience to an obvious pack leader. Besides, Ms. Park didn’t seem concerned, so why should they? 

Ms. Park matched touch for touch, drawing a sharp nail up the much larger woman’s chest, where a few buttons had been left undone to expose her broad chest. “You can look, you can touch, but rules are rules, Sarah. Save anything more serious until after the competition is decided.”

“Of course,” Sarah agreed around a sickening spew of cigar smoke. “Nothing like a little friendly rivalry to get the blood up. I like to earn my meals.”

“Come along, you two,” Ms. Park urged more gently. “It’s time you met your adoring fans.”

Sarah gave both competitors a thunderous, backwards smack on the rear, pushing them towards their owner in clumsy half-steps. The blows might have left marks, if their backsides hadn’t already been heavily reddened by the woman’s possessive grip.

Minus the chauffeur, the group entered the mansion together, passing by fancy sports cars while Sarah peeled off politely before offering a final leer at Kit and Vanessa. The building opened into a cavernous foyer that seemed more fit for a fashion show than a residence. Indeed, the room was also filled with chattering socialites and doting servants in risque mockeries of outfits they might have worn at a public gala. Even standing well over six feet, Sarah had managed to disappear into a crowd of such attendees.

Yet there was no escaping the sound of thrumming music—audible even under the drivers’ helmets and the soft whispering inside. Kit and Vanessa further stared agog through tinted plastic at massive screens arrayed above the procession, looping videos of gorgeous talking heads discussing something inaudible over professional racing footage, or showing closeups of nearly naked dancers of every describable sex who were arrayed in hanging cages above the excitement. These wore pasties and skirts with checkered flag patterns, while lights overhead flipped rhythmically between red, yellow, and green.

The screens, cages, audience, and assorted other signs of excess all flowed toward one central point: a glamorous stage at the back of the room mirrored by rows and rows of comfortable chairs. Many of the guests had already taken their seats to chat side-by-side before the stage. Though nothing was currently on display.

“Welcome to your debut as Oberhoff competitors,” Ms. Park called out to her overawed employees. “Let’s get you both ready for the show!”

She slid a hand over each of their hips, running a thumb over the delicious folds of fat that now squished at the top of their thighs with every step, thanks to the “sponsorship” they had helped secure, as she guided the duo up the stairs to the stage. 

“We’ll keep things straightforward for your first race,” Ms. Park explained. “The rules are so simple even Kit should understand them. I’m sure you’ll both appreciate that. Big, complicated rules are hardly fair, are they? That way there’s no question about which of you is inferior when you lose, Vanessa, and we keep things fun!”

Kit tried to agree, but found themself mute beneath the din and the helmet, and so simply nodded eagerly. The bobbing motion left their head slightly swimmy—only further driving home the notion that remembering anything too complicated would prove difficult at the moment. Ms. Park was always so right… Fun was the best !

Vanessa grunted with surprise, tugging at Ms. Park’s dress with an urgency too desperate to mean anger or offence. She was pouting. She was also trembling slightly. Ms. Park had never so blatantly described her as “inferior” to her partner like that—had never laid it out like an absolute fact, a definition that was as inescapable as her locked helmet. She couldn’t exactly argue the point, either. Not with the helmet locked tight over her face, and certainly not with another woman’s increasingly disgusting undergarments still stuffed between her teeth. Liquid leaked around the golden string held tight between her own thighs at the surety of her failure.

“This will be a one-on-one contest between the two of you,” Ms. Park continued. “We’re going to be auctioning you both off for the next week to one of these lucky buyers. You’ll both have fifteen minutes to prove to them why you deserve the highest bid. Whoever earns the most money before time runs out is the winner!”

As they reached the center of the stage, Ms. Park motioned to the half-filled arrangement of chairs below. Sarah was already seated: front row center. She produced a lazy wave, smartphone in hand, for Kit and Vanessa with another show of that wolfish grin.

Kit wiggled their fingers in a wave back to Sarah; Vanessa slapped their hand down and made another inaudible sound. It took a long moment for her thoughts to catch up with her body’s reaction, but this time she did take offense. Something wasn’t right about this! An auction? Surely none of it was what she or even the lowborn bimbo beside her had signed up for! 

Was it?

“Don’t worry, Vanessa,” Ms. Park said, raising Vanessa’s covered chin with one long, golden nail to direct her gaze upward. “I know exactly what you’re worried about.”

She… She did? Well, of course she must. Ms. Park seemed to know everything—even things Vanessa hadn’t known about herself before joining Team Oberhoff.

Even through the helmet, even through the haze of Vanessa’s thoughts that left her less and less certain she knew what she was reacting to so strongly, Ms. Park seemed to always know best.

It was right there in black and white. Ms. Park was always right.

“That’s right,” her owner added. “Nobody here will recognize either of you under your helmet. Your fame and status won’t do you any good. It will be a fair and balanced battle between Kit and yourself. That one-of-a-kind excitement that comes with trying your best and failing, like falling down a roller coaster with no bottom? You’ll feel every last drop~! It’ll be a totally fair fight and only your mediocrity will be to blame.”

Ms. Park pushed Vanessa’s head up slightly, then let it drop, before repeating the process, encouraging her head into a slow, clumsy nod.

Yes… It would be a fair fight! This was her chance to prove to herself—to Ms. Park—that she was better than some blown-up sex doll from the boonies. She was a Vanden: born and bred for better. She could prove it, no matter what Ms. Park said. Surely she was only trying to make her feel better—to provide her with another consolation prize in the form of that intoxicating, unbelievable thrill that came from getting so close to victory and feeling it all plummet beneath her… Ms. Park always knew best. Vanessa just had to win to reward her faith this time, just as Ms. Park would reward her in turn! Just as she rewarded Kit. She would compete at her absolute best!

Vanessa’s nod became more emphatic. Yes. Yes. Yes! She had to agree with Ms. Park. Agree that she was a loser! It would only make her inevitable victory all the sweeter.

“Not to mention, you won’t embarrass the Vanden family name this way. There’s no telling how your family might react if they saw footage of you here, beneath that helmet, shilling for sex toys and, well, looking like one…”

Vanessa hugged herself tight below tits now the size of her head. The thought of being so thoroughly disgraced sent shivers jiggling down her body, but she couldn’t be distracted by second place prizes! She had to focus on winning .

“Catch any of that, Kit?” Ms. Park asked, turning her attention to her other contestant.

Kit blinked beneath their helmet, pausing to consider what Ms. Park could possibly mean, casting their mind back to the last thing they could remember to see if it was relevant. It was at that moment they noticed a dampness on their chin, and realized they had been drooling inside their helmet for some time. They had been enjoying the sights and sounds of the crowd waving to them, attempted to count just how many fans they already had, and lost track at… something ending in “teen”? 

They turned a mute head to their owner with confusion—wondering if perhaps she meant to check Kit’s counting. Did she know about that? She was Ms. Park, after all. She knew lots of stuff!

“That’s alright,” the manager murmured. “We’ve got a special surprise lined up for you! Something that should help clear things up inside that pretty little head.”

“Ooh, I love surprises!” Kit echoed off the inside of their helmet. Memories of “surprising” their coworkers with skimpy new outfits, boob-heavy hugs, and breakroom blowjobs cascaded through their mind, sending a slightly sharp pain through their head as some small part of them tried to remember differently. This was quickly countered, however, by a more pressing sort of discomfort: the sensation of their cock pushing hard against their gold bikini. “I was, like, super surprised when we got here. It’s so loud and cool and pretty. Not at all like some dirty, boring racetrack!”

Something about that last sentence sent Kit’s chest pulsing: breathing heavy with exertion, as if their body was working very hard for something. Yet they were just standing there, under Ms. Park’s calming presence and the exciting gaze of so many adoring, joyous fans—all of them so excited to watch Kit and Vanessa compete at… what did Ms. Park call it? 

Right. An auction. That word set their heart beating faster again, but what was wrong with it? Ms. Park said it was super, duper simple. Perfect for a bimbo like them, even. Just what could possibly have Kit so on edge in such a deliciously happy place like this?

Their posture must have alerted Ms. Park that something was wrong. “You look tense, Kit,” she said. She slid a finely manicured hand around her driver’s erection, sliding it free from its joke of a prison. “It has been a while since you last let off some steam. Be a good little bimbo and try to at least hold out until your surprise!”

Had it been that long? Yes… Kit supposed it had. All those memories of sucking and fucking their way from the bottom to, well, a new level of bottom were in the past. They couldn’t even remember the last time they had let their true self run free, save for the photoshoot with Vanny! They couldn’t remember much else at all, really. Just sucking. Fucking. Being used. Good bimbo… Fun toy…

Ms. Park coddled the tip of their cock with a thumb, snapping Kit out of another drooling stupor as their owner spread slick, new liquid around the sensitive peak. It was absolutely, excruciatingly heavenly—slow and dismissive, like the absentminded attention of an adult too busy to spend their full attention petting a hyperactive kitten. Yet it kept Kit’s attention in rapturous arrest. They listed forward, catching themselves against Ms. Park’s steadier body as their knees shook.

Their breathing picked back up again, but this time it was different. Excited and full-bodied. Familiar. Fun! Fuckable!

No, no. That last one was Kit. It was hard to keep it all straight sometimes. Not that there had ever been anything “straight” about Kit to start. Men, women, and other nonbinary cuties in between and beyond were all fair game. A silly slut like them couldn’t keep track of all the differences with so many partners anyway. Maybe that was why they were the way they were! Keeping track of something as silly as “gender” seemed complicated. Not fun at all. 

“That’s more like it,” Ms. Park continued. “Keep that energy up for the big competition! The auction is about to start at any moment, and you’ll have plenty of opportunity for release.”

The lights in the massive room began to dim, signaling that the rest of the crowd should take their seats. The stage was illuminated instead mostly by the two massive monitors overseeing Ms. Park, Kit, and Vanessa—presenting closeups of their “faces” to the onlookers in the back.

At the front of the pack, Sarah made it clear she needed no such contrivance as she leaned back in her seat, looking up and directly at Kit and Vanessa, somehow managing to make her size felt even several feet below. She stretched well-toned arms to rest on her flanking chairs, adding further to the sense of scale. A suited, older man on her left and a young lady in a sparkling red dress on her right each gave her dirty looks as she carelessly invaded their personal space. She paid the man no mind at all, but blew a kiss (and a healthy cloud of smoke) into the woman’s face. Despite their discomfort, neither of the other guests bothered her further.

An attendant approached Ms. Park with a microphone. She took it, which seemed to cue a sudden spotlight to make her the center of attention. Even next to Kit and Vanessa, it wasn’t hard for her to take the focus in her own right. Her dazzling, golden gown, matching lips, and perfect hair sculpted to one side only accessorized a body that, while less exaggerated than Kit or Vanessa, still shone beautifully. Her own curves, exposed through slits in the dress, slid better into the audience’s view with every step, offering only teasing glimpses at a living, lovingly crafted statue as carved from precious metal, although the way Ms. Park’s legs crossed one over the other as she approached the crowd carried more of a winding, undersea predator than a sedentary hunter.

She smiled as she spoke: “Welcome, wonderful guests! We have a very special show planned for you this month. As many of you already know, or at least pay your assistants to know…” Ms. Park paused for the prophesied chuckle from the crowd. “...Aurum International has recently branched out beyond technology and pharmaceuticals into several new ventures. Consumer goods, for one, as well as, perhaps most relevant to tonight… entertainment!”

The crowd cheered, much more raucously than their tailored suits and custom dresses would have one believe. Kit nearly melted at the sound—feeling a wave of bliss at the sight of so many people enjoying themselves in the presence of their body. Even under their helmet, it would be clear to each and every one of them exactly what Kit was: just a fun, friendly piece of ass, born and built for their pleasure. Pleasure they could give to them one by one, seat by seat, spreading even more happiness to everybody in the room! Though Ms. Park probably wouldn’t like it. Maybe after the auction.

Vanessa, by contrast, felt her heart soar with hope at the concept of so many witnessing her performance. Though it was tempered by a growing, voracious voice in the back of her head that couldn’t help but imagine all those eyes devouring her, pulling her apart into constituent meat to be ogled piece by piece, totally unaware of the racing royalty she represented. Anonymity allowed her to lap up the delicious degradation for someone of her station. Let them look. They had no idea what or who they were about to witness!

“Our two competitors—well-trained professional racers with speed and endurance in equal measure—will be vying for your enjoyment tonight,” Ms. Park continued. “Not to mention your checkbooks.” That raised another laugh from the various attendees. “Featured on your left is the mysterious, voluptuous, and ever-eager to please pale rider known only as V!”

A spotlight fired onto Vanessa this time, nearly blinding in its brilliance if not for the dark plastic of her helmet’s visor. It still warmed her body to no end, sewing rivulets of sweat down her collared throat, as well as around the fattened seams around her breasts and thighs, pooling between and under her cleavage. A deeper heat spread to her cheeks, invisible to all watching, as the reality of her situation dawned in this new glow. What was she doing? This was absurd! Ludicrous! Unbelievably embarrassing!

No wonder it felt so tremendously right … Vanessa gave her most confident wave, heart in her throat with the stomach-dropping sense of loss before her. At least Ms. Park had continued to obscure her identity. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to control herself long enough to best Kit in the face of that total destruction of her reputation. No, she was certain she’d cum on the spot.

“And to your right is a much friendlier face—though you wouldn’t know it without looking further south—with a glow kissed by rays and holes ready for anything else you might have in mind: It’s the bubbly, bouncy, blow-up doll called Kitty!”

Kit positively glowed under the next spotlight, developing butterflies in their stomach that threatened to float them away rather than bounce. Though bounce they did, hopping up and down as they waved, throwing up peace signs, and otherwise trying to communicate their excitement to the crowd without the use of words. There was more bunny about them than their new namesake. The audience went especially wild when they bent far forward, offering a generous view of their cleavage drenched in dripping webs of reflected gold and flesh as they blew lipless kisses. 

So they did it again. And again. It was so good to make people happy! Kit could barely contain their joy at spreading so much happiness to so many new friends! If only they could do more for the no doubt unhappily inhibited crowd… But they had to follow the rules! Ms. Park had made them especially simple for a bimbo like them. Failing to follow them now wouldn’t make Ms. Park very happy at all!

“Both competitors will be allowed to use anything and everything at their disposal—provided by one of our wonderful sponsors so deftly promoted by the lovely V—to stake their claim on your affections this week, dear audience.” With this latest proclamation, two more servants, dressed in bunnysuits like parodies of magician’s assistants, appeared with two gold trays, each carried perpendicular to their waists and held upright by delicate chains. The cups of their leotards had been peeled down low enough to clamp the chains to their nipples, turning each server into a walking platter of pink, rubbery toys, whips, tubes of liquid, and assorted other implements of perversion. “You, on the other hand, will only require your smartphones. All bids can be directed via the usual application. All sales will be final.”

The crowd roared. The drivers panted in the face of their new tools and the implication of how exactly this race would be decided. Kit further fogged the inside of their saliva-laden plastic with a gasp, while Vanessa whimpered into the completely ruined bundle of red lace still forced firm between her lips.

“This is just the first of many planned Oberhoff publicity events our parent company has planned,” Ms. Park explained. “Who knows? Perhaps some of our future acquisitions will actually be worth racing! In the meantime, we encourage all bidders to grade today’s stars as much on enthusiasm and creativity as experience,” Ms. Park explained. “We’ll start the timers at fifteen minutes and the bidding at $20,000. Each.”

High above, the twin screens added matching red numbers over the live feeds of Kit and Vanessa: fifteen minutes and $20,000 reflected across both monitors.

“Ready… Set… Go!”

The assistants punctuated Ms. Park’s proclamation by waving green flags to either side of the stage, urging Kit and Vanessa onward. However, while their mind swam with memories of using tools much like these to please themself and partners both, Kit trembled with hesitation at the sight of the assistants and their golden trays, only tiptoeing towards them carefully in their heels.

Vanessa wasted no such time. She shook just as much as her rival (more so, with the tremulous way her tits and ass jostled around in her hurry), but moved quickly to pick out a pink dildo and bottle of lube from the nearest arrangement. She thought for a moment, then slid to sit down with her palms supporting her from behind as she spread her legs to the crowd. While the toy wasn’t as large as other available options, it still took almost a full thirty seconds of their allotted time to insert the slickened shaft deep into her pussy.

The crowd actually laughed at her overeagerness, teasing out more blushing red beneath her helmet, but it didn’t matter. This show of enthusiasm had earned her bids.

“I see $22,000 for V!” Ms. Park chuckled. “Do I see $25,000? $25,000. Do I hear twenty-eight? Do I hear twenty-eight? $28,000!” The race was on in earnest, with Vanessa off to a nearly one hundred percent lead in just under a minute! Surely she had this. “$30,000 for V from Mrs. Parcival in the third row!”

With the contest begun, Kit found it slightly easier to follow Vanessa’s lead and eager thrusts. They selected their own toy: a ribbed and studded specimen of purple silicone. One of the bunnysuited assistants offered to lube it, once it was clear Kit was going to forget to do so themself. They assumed a similar posture as Vanessa, albeit with the toy suction cupped to the stage floor and aimed towards a different hole, then began to gently slide up and down its length. Unlike Vanessa, they also made sure to focus fully on their audience. Though none of them would see anything but their own black-tinged reflections, Kit reveled in their looks of surprise and lust.

“In a daring turn of events,” Ms. Park added, “Kitty has selected the very largest of our supplied implements while Vanessa chose only the smallest of the bunch! A complete coincidence, or a surprising insult and show of dominance from one contestant to the next? You can decide with your wallets, darlings.”

That stirred a wave of taps into smartphones from the crowd: $20,000 shot to $25,000. Then $30,000. More.

Vanessa loosed a muffled scream of indignation that only Ms. Park and her attendants could hear. Kit had become too engrossed in the thrusting, the fullness, and the exertion of keeping their wobbling body upright as the dildo filled their ass. The sensation was almost serene, like they had been missing a part of themself for as long as they could remember, only to become whole once again. Though something about it wasn’t perfect , the deeper they rode the dildo into their ass, the more their bliss threatened to overflow. This was further evidenced by their upward-facing erection leaking more and more with every bounce before the assorted viewers, punctuating the space between their quaking tits not far behind.

Vanessa wouldn’t be outdone that easily, though. Still filling herself below—dripping onto the stage, her thighs, and her own fingers—she took a leather crop from a tray with her free hand. She was barely able to focus on herself as it was, however, and knew she wouldn’t find the right leverage to give the impressive show required to drag attention from that jealous whore.

Instead, Vanessa yanked her assistant forward by a comically small necktie, shoving the crop into their hands with force that caused their chains to snap free from their areolae, spilling toys and tools of torture across the floor. Her intentions became clear as soon as she sank back to her knees, back now turned to the crowd to offer it a new view of her aching cunt still swallowing its prize.

“It looks like V has requested some assistance,” Ms. Park commentated. “As previously stated, the contestants may use everything available to them to gain your favor. Do we think this counts, folks?”

The crowd erupted with greater laughter still, breaking out into disorganized chants of, “Yes!” and, “Do it!” and even, “Beat her ass!” Vanessa found herself swept up in the excitement, arching her back and ass harder into the rubber. The more reasonably sized dildo felt good enough, but it was the cheers for her to be whipped like some kind of scullery maid who had broken a dish that brought her true joy. Her eyes nearly rolled back into her head as she bit down hard on her gag.

The servant seemed caught in the fervor, too. They swung inexpertly, but firmly, coaxing out a sweet thwap of pain on the same cheek Sarah had similarly claimed less than an hour before. It came again. This time, Vanessa actually yelped into the lace panties. She had never been cropped before, and every new strike stung just as badly as the first. Worse was the building anticipation, and the knowledge that everyone in the building knew when she was about to shudder with sensation before she did, anticipating each strike with hooting and jeers.

Well, everyone but Kit, of course. They were still lost in their own, rhythmic world of pleasure as the rubber cock did its best to fill the yawning void only a real one could possibly fill. Their bids had slowed, too, as their novelty wore off and Vanessa’s more creative approach absorbed the crowd’s attention.

“That’s an even $40,000 for V,” Ms. Park chimed. “It seems Kitty has fallen woefully behind yet again. Now that simply won’t do! Not that they seem to mind a little action from the rear, mind you.”

The announcement began dividing the crowd’s attention back from its chanting at Vanessa. Most of them were repeat customers and understood that, if Ms. Park was interrupting their fun, she must be brewing something special to make it worth their attention.

“I would like to direct your attention to a video we’ve prepared just above the stage. Don’t worry: I promise it’s more entertaining than a word from our sponsors! You pay attention, too, Kitty. I think you’ll find this very interesting.”

The screens flickered from live footage to what was clearly a recording, given the date and time stamp in the bottom corner. Kit was seated awkwardly upon an uncomfortable chair in the Oberhoff main office, adjusting their modest skirt and fussing with a bun they had wrestled their curly hair into just hours before. Their voice came through clear and confident, despite their mannerisms, answering a question to some unseen interviewer.

“I absolutely think representation is very important,” said past Kit. “Not just because of my, y’know… gender identity and all that, but my upbringing, too.”

The Kit of the present finally took their eyes away from the audience and their own leaking cock, bending their neck backwards to look to the screens above. Even with their disorienting upside down view, and continued bobbing, the recording surprised them with its familiarity. That was… them! But that didn’t seem right. Kit looked nothing like that. Talked nothing like that. They weren’t even sure what some of those complicated words this other Kit was using meant!

“Professional racing is usually seen as a rich person’s sport,” explained the recording. The audience cheered with agreement and glee at this half-thought. “I want to show them, and the world, really, that anyone—rich or poor, woman or nonbinary—can chase their dreams and, y’know, catch them. That’s what racing is about, right? You’re always hauling ass, if you’ll excuse my language, after that distant goal.”

This brought out the audience’s first round of boos and exaggerated catcalls of the night. One woman in a pantsuit went so far as to claim an hors d'oeuvre from a passing server and fling it at the stage in an approximation of a rotten tomato.

Kit was confused. Why was a video of… them causing such distress? Why were people suddenly not having fun? Had they done something wrong? None of Kit’s memories of time spent pleasuring themself or others included anything like this sudden uproar. Already confused at the sight behind them, and the incomprehensible evidence that they were ruining everyone’s fun before them, their chest tightened with horror. Their eyes welled with unseen tears—streaking liquid gold down their face as their makeup began to run.

Ms. Park intervened: “You already know our keen contestant, Kitty, but this hardworking specimen before you see above is known as ‘Kit.’ They had big dreams when they first interviewed to work with Oberhoff. Dreams that, I’m sure you can see, only led to even bigger changes after Kit stooped to fucking and sucking their way to the top.”

She crouched down next to Kit, her microphone resting in one lazy hand so that nobody else in the room would hear her next words.

“Isn’t that right, Kitty?”

Kitty— No, Kit swung a nervous glance to Ms. Park as she spoke. 

“That’s why you went right for the biggest stallion you could ride,” their owner continued, low enough that only Kit could hear her. “Bigger is always better. That’s why you’re better than that poor, frumpy little ‘Kit’ person. I mean, just look at you!”

Kit clenched hard on the dildo in question, slowing their pumps and the dribble of precum they brought for the first time since taking the stage. Something inside them screamed and gnashed and tore and bit at the idea that they had to focus —that it wasn’t too late. 

They weren't sure what, exactly, wasn’t too late. The timer still read “ten” and the number beside it, whatever it said, seemed to be getting slowly, but surely bigger. That was good! Bigger was better. Maybe that was what the voice meant. The number seemed to change more when people got happier, so it wasn’t too late to get the number even bigger and make everyone super happy again! That sounded like oodles of fun. Certainly more than whatever the unfamiliar person in the video was talking about.

“Kitty was so, so tired after such a long, hard race to the top,” Ms. Park announced, lifting the microphone back to her lips. “All that work, and where did it get them? Tired. Flat. Small. Boring! Tell me, Kitty, do you even know what ‘representation’ means? Or how about ‘nonbinary’?”

Kit pondered. The small voice inside shuddered, almost as if the sobbing that had wracked them before was now transferred to it. Good! It was small. Unimportant. Flat and confusing and boring and so, so tired… Tired of fighting for the top. Tired of dealing with boring, complicated stuff like rent and credit cards and unanswered applications. Better for that small, tiny, unimportant part to make way for bigger and better things.

Ms. Park had asked a question. Kitty snapped back to attention and shook their head in response. It was just a guess, really, but it was probably a good one! Kitty had a much better chance of not knowing things than, well, knowing them. Bimbos didn’t need to worry about that kinda stuff. Bimbos were all about fun things: tits, ass, dildos, and more. The bigger, the better! Kitty already had most of that, so what else could they possibly need?

That must have been the right answer, because Ms. Park beamed. “That’s what I thought! ‘Bimbo’ is much easier to remember. It sounds so natural next to fun words like ‘big’ and ‘bouncy’ and ‘brainless.’ That’s what you are, Kitty. Not a girl, nor a man, as appealing as all those nice, short syllables must seem to you right now. You’re really just ‘bimbo,’ aren’t you?”

“Bimbo,” Kitty mumbled happily into their helmet. “Bimbo! I’m bimbo!” It was much easier to say. It defined them sooo much more totally, more naturally, than less fun words that didn’t describe them half as well!

Kitty had already fucked and sucked their way to the top like a good bimbo should. Now they could focus on bigger things. Better things! Boobs and butts and blowjobs for beautiful cocks and brushing their tongue inside their bestie’s cunt… Vanessa really seemed unhappy on the other side of the stage. Maybe Kitty could help her out.

That was it! That’s what they were missing. Bimbos weren’t just about themselves. They were about servicing others. That’s why the dildo hadn’t felt like enough. It wasn’t the real deal. Kitty needed to be themself—to be a bimbo. To be as complete and full and fulfilled as that word made them feel.

That didn’t stop them from ramming themself hard down onto the “stallion” Ms. Park had mentioned, tickling the deepest parts of themself in an act of defiance over that itty bitty whisper tickling the back of their head. It had tried to ruin their fun! Better for it to just disappear. Better for it to just… go…

Pop!

Kitty’s orgasm was thin but exuberant, and still quite visible as cum sparkled through the air and onto their soft belly, riding down the length of their cock in the spotlight’s heat. They shuddered in place, still skewered on the fake dick as the real one reveled in the exquisite shiver of plastic pleasure, making their limbs too weak to lift them back up. 

It wasn’t enough. It was never enough. There were so many different kinds of people to please, all of them swirling around in different shapes and sizes through Kitty’s mind, taking up all the space that once was full of desires and dreams and other things that would be impossible for a floozy like them.

No. It wasn’t enough, but it was still so, so good !

“I’d say Kitty is back in this race, folks!” Ms. Park returned her attention to the crowd, speaking into the microphone for their benefit. “They’ve caught all the way back up to the mysterious Ms. V at $40,000! How about we give our contestants a run for your money and bring out the real competitors at this event as we enter the final stretch. Do I hear, say… $75,000?”

The crowd erupted on momentum, at first, but slowly quieted ever-so-slightly, glancing between and talking amongst themselves as their minds caught up with their libido and Ms. Park’s words. It was a suddenly exorbitant bump in price, even to most of those assembled. 

Nearby, Vanessa slammed her fist petulantly into the stage floor, watching “Kitty’s” ascending attention in real time on the scoreboard, before she arched her back in surprise as a two-handed swat from the dutiful assistant sent a shock of pure white through her vision.

“How about we sweeten the pot?” Ms. Park continued, obviously anticipating this response. “You’ve all seen what Kit had to offer. Now let’s turn your attention back to the lovely Kitty and their present day preferences.”

Kitty’s assistant unlatched their tray and set its contents aside, giving them space to kneel behind the shuddering, supine bimbo and lift them up into a sitting position. Ms. Park followed their lead, pushing Kitty’s unresisting head forward before exposing a single, silver key. It slid snugly into Kitty’s collar, releasing their sodden helmet with a single click. 

The golden tear stains were now matched by glistening sweat under the light of the stage. Kitty was disheveled and confused. Bulging eyes and dilated pupils spoke to their surprise, even as a thin line of built-up drool implied a level of dissociated calm, pouring ceaselessly down the center of their parted lips. Even drenched and newly hatched from their cocoon of subliminals, Kitty now felt completely reborn as the perfect bimbo!

And they were ravenous.

Ms. Park gently bent Kitty forward with a firm push on the shoulders, pressing the contestant’s hands and knees and the soft mass of their tits into the wood floor. There was no chance to unseat themself from their toy, so another pop signaled the dildo’s freedom from its suction, letting it ride laughably high in the depths of Kitty’s jiggling ass.

Kitty twisted to gripped their assistant by their bunnysuit. Already half-disrobed to make room for the discarded clamps, it wasn’t hard to pull the assistant’s leotard the rest of the way down, exposing whatever lucky treat was hiding underneath. It didn’t matter what. Not to a brainless slut like Kitty! They didn’t need to worry about things like that. Only sucking, fucking, and enjoying their brilliant new life~!

The crowd went wild as Kitty went down. The bids climbed to $80,000 and beyond by the time the cheering settled and the timer reached the six-minute mark.

“Ninety-five thousand for Kitty,” Sarah announced aloud, rumbling enough to quiet the remaining rabble. Her arms were still draped nonchalantly over her neighbors’ seats, one thumb resting against the glass of a lightly held smartphone. “Plus another seventy-five for the girl.”

The room went from howls to gasps, save for Ms. Park. She simply laughed: “Not bad for a couple of first-timers! It seems our reigning queen of the auction has finally made her preferences known, folks. Is anyone brave, or perhaps enchanted by my lovely cohosts, enough to outbid her?”

“Eighty-five for V!” barked the man next to Sarah. It was clear from his voice that he had sampled some of the champagne the servers carried. “This oversized bitch can’t have all the fun.”

That drew only a smattering of half-hearted chuckles from the audience. Most looked away and tried to ignore or distance themselves from him. Sarah just smiled straight ahead, eyes on her prizes, never once indicating she even heard the man next to her.

“Ninety grand for V,” Sarah countered. “Plus an extra fifty, as a gift from me, if you buy out Martin’s granddaughter’s modelling contract… On top of whatever I bid for her next month.”

The older man’s face went from a drunken blush to pallid terror. Sarah blew cigar smoke into the air and recrossed her legs---still refusing to acknowledge him directly.

“That sounds like a winning bid to me, ladies and gentlemen, but we still have just over five minutes left on the board.” Ms. Park scanned the guests for any signs of takers, though it was clear she would find none. She shrugged, turning her back to the crowd as she surveyed the boards and her whores for dramatic effect. The general mood of the audience roared into arguments, laughter, and pure bedlam. Outbid attendees rose from their seats in indignation and frustration, or clapped with admiration at the pure spectacle of it all, yet nobody put in an official competing offer.

Sarah kept her eyes front and only wolf whistled at Ms. Park’s retreating shape, as it moved languidly across the stage in its tightly packed dress.

Ninety-five thousand dollars for Kit and another ninety for Vanessa---in addition to Sarah’s promised bonus. It was well above the expected outcome. Vanessa would be ecstatic at the close loss, after all her training, while Kit would be too drunk on cock and the excitement of the crowd to feel anything but ecstasy.

Only… Something was missing. Ms. Park couldn’t help but think the whole affair had been rather… dull. Well, perhaps not dull. She would have to move heaven and earth to take over that modelling contract. Even so, somehow she had expected a bigger climax from—

Vanessa interrupted her thoughts on hands and knees, scuttling away from her torturer while letting her bikini just barely hold her dildo in place. No, it was a vibrator now. She had apparently tried something new to regain the audience’s attention while it had been fixated on Sarah and Kit. Make that a few new things: her nipples were also now home to their own clamps, vibrating on a battery pack clutched in her palm, while a set of beads was slid snugly into her ass to better outmatch Kit—or Kitty, as was now the case.

None of it had worked. Not even Ms. Park had noticed. And wasn’t that just perfectly Vanessa? Ms. Park couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of her desperate, dripping, second place draft horse.

Not that Vanessa was giving up. She was tugging at the seam of her locked collar with agonizing effort. Ms. Park was nearly certain she was asphyxiating herself, though she’d wear herself out before she could seriously damage the merchandise.

“That’s funny,” Ms. Park said. “It seems like you have something to say.”

Vanessa nodded profusely in her helmet.

“Perhaps you misunderstood,” Ms. Park continued. “Only winners get let out of their uniforms early.” 

The manager lowered one high heel into the back of their groveling employee’s skull, pushing the featureless plastic into her other shoe in a mockery of a kiss. Vanessa managed to keep her ass in the air, buzzing away for Ms. Park’s and even the crowd’s amusement as she held the microphone low enough to pick up the sound. 

“I suppose you think there’s still time to win. That doesn’t seem likely. Sarah’s already obviously taking you both home this month. Nobody’s going to bid just to stroke your ego. Maybe Kitty could do it, of course, but a loser like you? You’ll only embarrass yourself further, Vanessa!”

Vanessa pressed her palms as flat into the ground as she could while Ms. Park dug her heel down as low as it would go.

“I suppose that’s what you want, isn’t it?” Ms. Park readied her key even as she spoke. “One last chance to show everyone you’re a failure. One last chance to get off on gambling with your own deficiencies before it’s such a foregone conclusion it loses all luster.”

The collar snapped free; Vanessa shivered, shaking her helmet off and the disgusting pair of panties loose in a choke of saliva and sweat. Vanessa didn’t take the time to stand back up once she was out; she simply shuffled back onto all fours as she hurried to the edge of the stage. Ms. Park nudged her along with a swift kick into her already raw rear before she continued her commentating.

“This is a most unorthodox maneuver, dear guests, but it seems the secretive V has also revealed her true face to the crowd! What’s more, she’s begun to make her way off the stage and into the stands. What could she possibly hope to achieve with this feeble display of doomed diversion?”

The proud Vanden heiress was indeed on the move. She had made a beeline for Sarah, who for the first time that evening looked to be caught off guard. That meant nothing to Vanessa, however, who was fixated on something much lower than the rich woman’s face.

“Please,” she croaked through bee-stung smears of gold lipstick. “I’m worth so much more than that useless idiot. I can prove it!”

She pressed Sarah’s knees apart, already dribbling onto her suit trousers with anticipation before she unbuttoned the garment to take her final lap. Well, she would have, if not for the fact that Sarah came equipped with an enormous cock—only half hard from the show the duo had just put on above.

“O-Oh,” Vanessa moaned, realizing there was yet more work to do. She lifted the shaft between two soft hands and guided the tip to her expectant pout. The new size of her lips made for much cushioning, but didn’t make her mouth any easier to access for the huge dick. She simply had to guide it in carefully with her tongue to help lead the way. Particularly as it began to harden, the deeper it pressed towards the back of her throat.

Confusion quickly gave way to enthusiasm as Sarah’s mind caught up with her body.

“No idea what I did to deserve this,” she said. “I won’t say no to a free preview, though. Go on and give me my money’s worth, cunt.”

The woman wrapped her fingers in Vanessa’s matted hair, at first pulling her back and then aggressively embracing herself around the growing erection, with the other woman’s lips as the key conduit. Vanessa’s eyes swelled with shock and tears. Gold and glitter ran with equal measure down her chin and throat. 

Yet it wasn’t enough. Sarah’s hand remained unmoved. Vanessa’s number remained unchanged, even as the blowjob grew intense enough that Martin and the woman at Sarah’s side abandoned their posts in disgust and fear at this public display. Vanessa began to put her neck into it, as well, adjusting her angle with every gulp to service the underside of the cock, its tip, its curving sides. When the tears and choking weren’t too torturous, she even managed to reach her tongue to the other woman’s base, paying attention to her balls with more than just her hands.

“Hey, I think I know her,” came a voice from somewhere far away.

Vanessa’s blood froze.

“Is that Vanessa Vanden?” 

“Holy shit,” whispered another. “That can’t be her, though. You’re fucking crazy.”

“No, that’s totally her! They can even get through to a bitch like that?” asked a third. “I better save up for next time.”

The comments caught like wildfire after that, dissolving into a slurred murmur Vanessa could barely comprehend over a sudden, sharp ringing in her ears.

Vanessa… Her… Vanden… Ruined… Totally fucked up… Disgrace… Whore. Slut. Cocksleeve.

There was something almost peaceful about the mask finally breaking. Her eyes went dull with relief, even as tears from more than just the fullness of her mouth began to rush down her cheeks. She could barely parse those conflicting feelings any more than she could make out complete sentences from the onlookers. Her focus was too devoted to the magnificence between her lips and a growing warmth that overtook her stomach and hips and pussy below. All she knew was that some dam had broken inside her, flooding her with endorphins as the greatest failure of her life was cashed in for the cheap thrill of an amusement park ride.

It would all be worth it. She just had to win. Just had to ride this wave of embarrassment and loss of status and the death of her reputation to a single thumb press. She could climb to the top and get it all back: that sense that she still had something to lose, and the joyous stakes that came with it!

The thought was enough to push her into a final sprint, teasing and licking the cock before her with all the obsessive bliss she could muster. Sarah felt the rising energy, too, and redoubled her efforts to deep throat herself on the living sex toy: an object no more or less useful than those left discarded back on the stage, where Kitty continued to enjoy themself.

Her drool and tears were quickly joined by a rush of cum down her chin as Sarah spilled inside her, rising too fast and too thick for Vanessa’s inexperienced mouth to manage.

Vanessa had been born into privilege. Money had never held any sway over her, when she always had plenty of her own to buy her way to the top of any situation she faced. It was the very engine driving her need to win—to prove she was more than just a family name and a set of numbers in a bank account. Yet this was the point she had fought so hard to reach, right back to the bottom, defined by money: a paltry sum, even, compared to her own fortune, yet brighter and more all-encompassing in her mind than any inheritance—greater even than any other thought she might muster. Vanessa’s entire reputation, her self-worth, and her drive to win were now slaves to the one thing she had always strove to be better than.

And it felt amazing !

“Just a bit more,” she burbled through her full mouth. “Just gotta… gotta beat them. Gotta win. Just one time… Please!”

“Crazy bitch,” said Sarah. “I already own both your asses. Why should I bother?”

Vanessa’s heart sank as the timer dove below the one-minute mark. She didn’t stop, however. She wouldn’t give up! She couldn’t! It wouldn’t feel half as good if she did.

Wh-What? No, she had to win! Didn’t she? Certainly she had to try… Yes! Otherwise, it wouldn’t be… real. Wouldn’t feel… so, so good .

“Only for a few days,” Vanessa tried. Jizz dribbled down her lips and between her tits as she spoke, drawing herself up higher in Sarah’s lap. “I’ll give you so much more if you just let me win. Just a hundred more than them. No, fifty. Ten! Anything! I just need to beat that stupid slut.”

Vanessa punctuated her begging with two fat, sticky tits riding the length of Sarah’s cock, returning the still-sensitive shaft back to attention before it could 

“Fine,” Sarah relented, rolling her eyes even as she placed a possessive hand on the small of Vanessa’s back. “Nobody ever accused me of being stingy.”

The woman’s thumb swiped across her smartphone. The red bid on Vanessa’s monitor climbed, inching to rest on a whopping one hundred thousand—just a bit higher than Kitty, who was even then oblivious to their sudden defeat as they continued to maul their assistant in a tangle on the stage. With just twenty seconds left on the clock, however, there was no way their paltry hedonism would rise above Vanessa’s show of degradation.

“I did it,” Vanessa squeaked through tears and cum and the breathless thrusts of dick rising up to her chin. Despite her mortifying position, her heart soared above the voyeurs laughing softly in her direction. “That’s right. I’m not just a loser! I’m Vanessa fucking Vanden, you rubbernecking frea—”

Her helmet slid snugly back into place, snuffing out Vanessa’s victory speech.

“Hush, darling. I did say that only winners got let out of their uniforms early.” 

Vanessa clawed at the collar around her neck, but it was too late. Ms. Park was already locking it back in place. She swung her masked face to stare with mute horror up at her owner, wondering what she had possibly done to earn her disfavor, even as reflex drove her to keep stroking the cock between her tits.

Ms. Park leaned over her employee, brushing her own immaculate lips against Sarah’s ear. She whispered something then—inaudible to anyone but her and the well-serviced butch. Sarah laughed, then gave one small tap to her phone.

High above, on the much larger screens, Kitty’s bid rose one last time.

$100,001.

Just one dollar higher than Vanessa.

She willed time to freeze, eyes wide and mouth agape with no one to see, but the clock ticked down regardless. The clocks struck zero with a more resounding impact than any toy she had rammed into herself. The screens above released a shower of celebratory sparks and klaxons, ushered in by the assistants who now waved checkered flags—even if one of them trembled their way through the motions while Kitty serviced them. Her lips wobbled between an imbecilic smile and an unborn scream. That claustrophobic terror of concrete reality—of the absolute certainty that she was nothing but a common, cock-sucking whore destined for nothing but obedience and a cheap fuck, despite her wealth, her upbringing, her ambition—coiled around her stomach like a serpent… and squeezed.

Vanessa squeezed, too. Every muscle in her body seized with unbearable pleasure at this mathematically surety that she was everything her owner claimed she was. A slut. A whore. A born loser , only here to prop up a bimbo with less than half her brains. There was such safety, such freedom and release in that consolation victory of purpose to that absurd truth that she couldn’t help but resign herself to climax.

Her back arched closer to her new, temporary owner as she mashed her breasts together (other people’s pleasure was what they and she both were for, after all~), and squirted impotently into the cushion between Sarah’s legs. She huffed and trembled with bliss as the darkness in her helmet was replaced by white light.

She collapsed forward, an exhausted heap of sex and sweat still teasing cum from Sarah’s cock between her breasts. With no panties in the way, her mouth was free to drool into the inside of her helmet, just as Kitty had done until they had been released to enjoy their victory. 

A foregone conclusion.

Said victory now included both stage assistants filling Kitty’s head, now the emptiest it had ever been, as the definitional bimbo competed only with themself to leave deeper and deeper rings of gold lipstick along their shafts, totally oblivious to how they had just shattered and satisfied Vanessa beyond all repair. They didn’t even notice how their stroking hands continued to rub their own lipstick away whenever they switched dicks to suck, forcing them to continuously try and try again to beat each new record without reprieve.

That was fine, of course. They loved every second of it.

Just as Sarah would enjoy every second of both competitors.

***

Ms. Park didn’t return Kitty’s helmet at the party’s conclusion, but she did bring them a matching collar. All the better for Sarah to leash them with, keeping the bubblebrained bimbo from wandering off in distraction. Vanessa didn’t need a leash to follow orders—to the victor went the spoils, after all, and these spoils knew their place—but Sarah hooked her to one regardless. That way, she could draft both of her new trophies along at equal speed, keeping her own eyes firmly on the road ahead.

The last obstacle in her way was Ms. Park herself: a true prize not even she had been able to claim after years of attempts. The Oberhoff manager was waiting for her outside the mansion, standing with her plainer but decidedly still delicious chauffeur.

“Congratulations,” Ms. Park said. “I do hope you understand, however, that nothing Vanessa of all people offered is contractually binding. I expect you to return my employees promptly on Monday.”

Sarah took one last puff on a stub of cigar, before dropping it to the ground with one hand. She cut herself a new one, and Vanessa eagerly appeared at her side to light it between two trembling hands. Kitty, meanwhile, only sucked the tip of a finger and waited for their owner—their two owners?—to discuss their boring business stuff.

They freed their finger with a wet pop and added: “Hey, Ms. Park! Are we, like, going home with you in the limo? That was super fun! I just, like, love car rides, for some reason!”

Ms. Park gave the bikini’d bimbo a wan smile.

“We’ve been over this, Kitty,” she cooed. “You’ll be staying with Sarah for a couple of days. That’s two, which comes after one. Like the number of times I’ve already explained this.”

“Ooh~!” Kitty nodded with understanding. “Do you have a car we can ride, Ms. Sarah?”

The butch choked back an urge to inform Kitty they would be riding one helluva lot more than that. Some comments were too low even for them to make (at least not without two or three more drinks than they had had that evening). Instead, she tugged Kitty and Vanessa back into a domineering squeeze, thick fingers falling deep between Kitty’s cheeks and sinking hard into one of Vanessa’s teats. If not for the intensity, the scene might have mirrored the groping she had given the pair outside of Ms. Park’s vehicle. Both of her new whores slid their arms around the overbearing woman in response. 

Sarah pulled Kitty in for a kiss, shoving her tongue down the bimbo’s throat to quiet them for the first time since they had left the building. Their eyes rolled back into their head as Sarah pulled back, leaving the bimbo’s tongue lolling loose with a string of saliva still attaching them. Any questions Kitty may have asked tumbled out of their head just as freely, while their cock twitched in anticipation.

Vanessa only bit her lip inside her helmet. Away from the party, the group could hear her muffled moan of pleasure at being groped, though they might not have guessed that her true pleasure was in being denied the same show of affection that Kitty enjoyed. It wasn’t her place to ask for a kiss. That was surely for winners. Her purpose was to contrast—to highlight someone else’s total victory.

“The extra fifty grand doesn’t buy me any leeway?” Sarah directed the question to Ms. Park.

“We both know shutting that old fossil up for good was enough of a reward in and of itself,” Ms. Park replied. “But if you want a little extra time with the stars of our show, we can always discuss a more permanent team transfer.”

“Oh, sweetheart. I could be convinced.” Sarah rolled her cigar from one side of her mouth to the other, while her eyes swept Ms. Park up and down. “If you could offer the right… added incentives.”

The negotiations that evening led the group back to Ms. Park’s limo after all, and lasted well into the night. Kitty and Vanessa didn’t intervene. Instead, they entertained each other on the luxurious seats, rutting like animals with the closeness of sisters. While they had been competitors just hours before, that was all a thing of the past, at least until their owners could decide their next identities, their latest purpose. Both instinctively understood the power dynamic at play that now put them both firmly in second place, carried in the wake behind and beneath these powerful women. 

For now, they were equal—prizes to be won and ogled, bought and sold. They were a matching set of arm candy. Partners. Trophies. Race queens.