by Adrian Amos
I don't have time to see daddy and get my kiss. I run to the tent, slipping in just in time.
Darcy eyes me with disgust as I enter, but I ignore her. I keep my smirk hidden, knowing how much it's eating her up inside to see me again.
I tug on my shorts, the soreness in my behind not entirely gone. I cleaned myself out of him, but my anus is still loose, and it's a nagging feeling that keeps sucking my shorts up into my crack.
Ellen runs over to me. “What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were disqualified?”
“Friends in high places.” The joke is more morose than I intend.
I look around the room. The only people I see are Darcy, Ellen, and the girl Ellen won the cooperation game with. “Where is everyone?”
“Well, with you here, it's just the four of us now. We're the only ones with points, so we're the only ones who can technically win, or at least tie with Darcy.”
Right. Darcy has three points, and the three of us have one point apiece. With three games left, that means if Darcy wins one more, she wins the competition. I have to win straight out or win two while one of the other girls wins one of the games to tie.
In either case, I'm going to need some luck on my side.
“Welcome back, Megan,” the elderly Matron says, both pleasantly and disagreeably.
“Some news first before I explain the game. Mr. Morris has had a family emergency and will no longer be a judge for us. We have decided to leave the rest of the competition to my own judgment, dismissing Mr. Dervell so we can retain an odd number. It is an odd situation, but believe me, you will not notice the difference.”
Relief cannot describe the feeling I have knowing I won't see him for the rest of my time here. He can hide his face all he likes, but I'll make sure he doesn't get away with what he's done, no matter what happens the rest of the way.
“For the sixth game,” she says, “you will be tested on your cooking skills.”
I suck in air. Yes! This is something I'm actually good at. At the very least, I won't be starting at a disadvantage, unless they make me wrestle in a pool of jello or some other sort of nonsense.
“You won't just be a mother, you will also be the hen of the household. You'll take care of your man, as well as your new child. This requires a disciplined heart and a firm grasp of your day to day duties. Cooking keeps us all alive so you will have the most important responsibility of all.
“The rules are simple. Complete a satisfactory breakfast for your family in the kitchens set in the Coliseum. The fastest to complete their meal—as well as prevent it from tasting like garbage—will be the winner.”
“There will be a handicap for each girl. It will be a stand-in for the difficulty and pressure you will constantly be under to serve your family. It will be a burden, one that will weigh down on you at every moment, whether opportune or not. Here in the arena should be no different.
“Normally, we'd prepare you within the tent, but we've found over the last few years that the audience prefers to see the handicap installed first hand. So, girls, if you will, follow after me.”
As Darcy walks by me, she bumps my shoulder. “I thought I got rid of your ass.”
A new game, one where I stand a chance, has my confidence at its highest. I'm ready to get back into this. “You wish. You'll be kissing this ass when I win.”
She scoffs and heads out the tent. I follow behind, the roar of the crowd growing as we make our way to the center of the arena. There is a long kitchen set up, stretching a distance through the dirt pit. Each section has its own refrigerator, sink, oven, stove, and set of counters.
It's long, and obviously meant for a large number of contestants, but with just the four of us left, they'll be able to spread us out far away from each other.
But before that happens...
“Girls, over here,” the Matron calls out. We turn to see a long bar at waist level stretching parallel to the ground.
We walk over, and she says, “Bend over and grab the bar.”
Grasping the bar with both hands, I bend over at the waist. Before I notice anything, one of the half-naked men comes up behind me, grabs my shorts, and yanks them down, exposing my ass to the delight of the spectators.
The same happens to the other girls, and as we're bent over naked, the Matron shouts, “Prepare the burden!”
A man comes out with a large case, setting it out on a table in front of us. He unlocks the latches, swinging the top open. Inside are small, fat, bulbous metallic objects. When he pulls one out, I can see that it tapers down to a slim point before ending at a flange.
When I realize what they are, my stomach seizes, and I reassess my definition of size.
They're fucking huge!
The man drops a large dollop of lube on the top of the plug, smearing it all over with gloved hands.
The other girls squirm as well, and the Matron says, “You're going to feel a constant, nagging pressure that will never get easier on you. Motherhood is a burden, and you should be prepared.”
Handing the devices out, a man finds his place behind each of us. One comes up behind me, puts one hand on my lower back, and begins pushing the massive butt plug up my ass.
It's so fucking big, I have to grit my teeth at the insertion, feeling a tremendous amount of pressure as it makes its way in. It hurts, but not as much as I would have thought.
Or it should have. The other girls don't take the anal plugs so gracefully. Ellen and the other small girl sound like they're being torn apart, and even though Darcy is silent, her face is contorted in pain.
I realize I have a second advantage. Not only can I cook, but getting fucked up the ass by Mr. Morris only a little while ago has loosened me to the point where the bulbous plug feels like a minor nuisance more than anything.
I doubt he meant to do me a favor, so I'm still going to nail his ass to the wall when all is said and done.
“If the plug falls out of you, you will be disqualified,” the Matron says.
Well, that's the easiest thing in the world. Someone would have to have a prolapsed anus for this monster to fall out.
Leaving our shorts behind, we head to the kitchen. Or, I head to the kitchen; the other girls struggle greatly to move their legs through the pain.
I have to wait at the counters for them to all get there. I actually get a moment to enjoy the giant plug inside me, my ass shifting with small movements as it slides around.
Daddy needs to buy me one of these when we get home.
Once the game starts, it's not even a contest. I move fluidly and effortlessly, grabbing my supplies from the refrigerator and starting on my classic meal: eggs, toast, bacon, and coffee.
I've perfected the movements after years of making it for daddy, and no butt plug is enough to slow me down.
I look at the other girls, who are either hunched over, bracing themselves against their knees, or gingerly walking around.
Feeling almost superhuman, I casually prepare the meal, timing it so every aspect is finished cooking at the same time. Setting it all on a plate, I walk over—nearly skipping—to the Matron's booth.
She takes a bite, and I achieve the easiest victory in my life.
“Megan is our winner!” she calls out on the speakers. The crowd goes wild, and I wave to them, ecstatic that I'm back in the game.
I was wrong: my confidence can go higher.
A half-naked man comes over to me. “Are you ready to remove the plug?”
“Aww,” I pout, “you're telling me I don't get to keep it as a souvenir?”
GAME 7
Daddy and I enter the prep tent, and to our surprise, it's filled with small tables, where a number of arena employees are fooling around with a set of containers.
The other girls are waiting inside already with their own men, and when the Matron sees us come in, she waves the entire group over away from the men setting up.
“Girls, gentleman, as you are aware, this is an event that requires both of y
ou to participate. The men will play a more active role in this game, and so we will have the lot of you to prepare for this together.”
An employee comes over and whispers something in the Matron's ear. She nods to him, and he heads over to one of the tables and collects a tray of cups.
“So you are all aware of what you'll be taking”—the employee hands me a paper cup filled with an odd-smelling white cream—“the girls will be taking synthetic pregnancy hormones, and the men will be taking male enhancement medication.”
When I stare at the strange liquid, she nods to me, “Bottoms up.”
I lick my lips, preparing for a horrendous taste, but the medication is tasteless when I tip it into my mouth. Everyone else takes their medication as well, Daddy taking his pill, and the man collects our cups from us again.
“Now, girls,” the Matrons says, “the purpose of this game is to show the duality of your relationships with the people around you. You will have a small baby to take care of, but because your men will be swimming in testosterone, they will be utterly consumed by an urge to have sex.”
I look over at daddy, smirking, and he winks back at me. The thought of him being some sort of sex-crazed maniac is kind of enticing. Daddy's always had a blasé attitude toward sex, as something that needs to be done but isn't really that important.
If testosterone could change him into something different...
“It will be a burden,” the Matrons says, and I can't help but roll my eyes. It frightened me before, all this negativity about the effects of testosterone, but I'm starting to get the sense all this repetition to demonize it is a force of propaganda.
She continues, “And your men will constantly be in need of sexual activity. While you are in the efforts of taking care of your child, he'll be all over you, incessantly trying to engage you in sex. You need to—as a good wife and mother—sate both life forms in your household equally. Your child must be fed, and so must your man.
“The hormones for the girls will cause your body to enter a state of pseudo-pregnancy. Mind you, it is only temporary, lasting no more than a day, so you needn't worry about any lasting physical effects. The purpose of giving it to you is to stimulate milk production and lactation. You will be required to fill two containers to the specified level marked on the bottles.
“For the men, your pill will increase blood flow, giving you easy and powerful erections. As your girl is being milked, you must keep your erection firmly inside her, keeping a regular pace of thrusting, as will be indicated on a screen in front of you and monitored by a referee.
“Failure to keep inside her or maintain the proper pace will result in disqualification. For the girls, reaching orgasm before filling the bottles will result in disqualification, and not filling your bottles before a victor is declared will also result in disqualification.
“Victory requires you to fill your bottles—satisfying your baby's hunger—and then successfully have an orgasm—satisfying your man's lust. The first to do both in that order will be named the winner.
“Now, I will leave you be for the next thirty minutes to allow the medication to reach your nervous system, and when we're ready, we'll head out to the milking stations.”
What a bizarre and chaotic game. I wonder how much of my natural ability to produce milk might play a role in the outcome?
And then to successfully orgasm?
Well, that last part hasn't shown to be too hard.
When the Matron and her employees leave the tent, I'm about to turn around and head over to daddy, but I'm stopped when Ellen throws her arms around my neck. I'm surprised by the sudden movement and even more surprised when she pushes her lips against mine.
But instead of a kiss, she spits liquid into my mouth. Letting go, she says, “Drink it. Hurry.”
I swallow without thinking and cough, realizing I have no idea what she just fed me. “What the hell was that?”
“Sorry, I couldn't talk. It's my portion of the hormones.”
“What?” I nearly scream, glancing around the room to see if anyone was watching. But the only one looking at us is daddy, and he's a shocked as I am.
“Why would you do that?” I whisper to her.
“Because I'm not going to win. I've lost this game before because I don't produce a lot of milk, even with the hormones.” She huffs. “I mean, come on, there's formula out in the real world! This game is stupid.
“Anyway, the best I can do is tie Darcy, and I know I can't beat her one on one. But maybe you can. And if she's going to cheat and try to knock you out, then the least you can do is even the score. A double dose of hormones will make you unbeatable.”
“You want me to win?”
She shrugs. “Not really. I just don't want that bitch Darcy to win. Could you imagine her raising a child? It'd be a crime. That girl does not deserve to be a mother. Plus, she fucked me with a strap-on. I don't know how they expect you to cooperate after that.”
She ponders, “I guess that's why the cooperation game comes before that strap-on event.”
Wistfully, I say, “Thanks, Ellen.”
She gives me a hug. “Hey, don't mention it. Just beat Darcy, okay? Sorry about the weird kiss.”
I chuckle. “What are you going to do?”
She shrugs. “Daddy took a blue pill, so I'm going out there to have some fun with it.”
I shake my head, laughing. “At least you get something out of it.”
She winks, “At least I get something.”
I walk over and tell daddy what happened, and he slaps his hands together with an emphatic smack. “That's amazing.”
“Well, you're excited.”
“You did great last time. If this one is really in the bag, we'll be tied in the lead. Come on, that's definitely exciting.”
When he says 'we,' I get a surge of euphoria rushing through my system. It's the first time it really feels like us together, like us against the world. We haven't even won this game yet, but I feel so close to victory I can taste it.
Daddy grabs his crotch, clutching his growing shaft. “Oh,” he says, “I think the pill's kicking in.”
“Yeah,” I say, feeling tenderness in my breasts, “I think mine is working too.”
A man enters the tent, speaking boldly, “Ladies and gentleman, if you will take off your clothes, you can follow me out to the Coliseum.”
All of us undress down to nothing. I don't think any of us is embarrassed by our nudity at this point in the Games, stripping down as if it were the most natural thing ever.
“Good luck, babygirl,” daddy says, giving me my kiss. I'm settled once more, glad to be back together with daddy, no matter what happens.
Following the man out, the crowd explodes, and the man on the speaker says, “Folks, it looks like we're going to start the crowd favorite soon. Sit back and enjoy this deliciously, carnal delight!”
The hormones are having a big effect on me. I feel like I'm swimming, my body bloated and achy. In only the minute in walking from the tent to the milking stalls, I can feel liquid start to collect in my chest.
The other girls don't seem too affected, but when I look down—my god, I can see my breasts swelling before my eyes! They look like they've grown nearly fifty percent in size, rounding out and sagging as the milk puts some heft near my nipples. The double dose is working quickly, setting my body up for motherhood.
And when I look at daddy, his cock is expanding to an incredible size. Without even touching it, he's ballooned to a length and thickness I've never seen before in him. It actually bobs up and down with his heartbeat, sensitive to every tiny motion in his body.
They set daddy and me in a small wooden stall, the wood posts no higher than my waist. It allows clear visibility for the audience as well as the referee standing nearby. On the door leading into the small corral—which they close behind us to seal us into our own private pit—there's a wooden board with a large hole and two smaller ones just above and to the side of it.
The referee guides me to the door, unlocks a few metal latches, and lifts the upper half of the door straight up, splitting the hole in two. He lowers my head and guides my torso through the hole, resting my waist in the lower crescent. Closing the top slat on top of me, he locks me in place, splitting my upper half from my lower half, daddy having access to the side his dick needs to be in.
The referee takes my arms and pulls them backward, pushing my hands through the two smaller holes above the bigger one. He locks my wrists in place, attaching a bar to the contraption that stretches the length between my hands, giving me something to hold onto in my especially awkward position.
I'm now put in a vulnerable stance, my body and arms locked in the stockade behind me. It's surprisingly comfortable, but unnerving since I can't move at all.
The referee places two containers underneath my tits, positioning them so my nipples are directly overhead.
The announcer is calling out introductions on the speaker as we're being set up for the game, and when he finishes, the Matron takes over, “Gentleman, please take your places.”
The referee hands daddy some lube and watches as daddy applies it, coming up behind me with his fully engorged cock. Pushing it downward, daddy slowly slips his cock into me.
I cry out, the pressure of his massive cock stretching me beyond words.
“Holy—daddy, you're too big!”
“Sorry, babygirl,” he says, running his hand in circles over my ass to calm me, “it's the pill. I'll take it slow for now.”
Even with the lube, daddy's penetration is intense, splitting me open with his throbbing cock. Nestling all the way in my cunt, his medication-induced cock is pressing hard against my cervix, barely able to fit in my tight pussy.
I can even feel when he flexes his cock, the subtle, outward motion enough to make me moan!
“At the bell, the game will start. Men will start their thrusting, watching the flash board to ensure they are keeping pace. For five minutes!” The Matron calls out to the pleasure of the crowd.
