by Alexis Angel
The crowd cheers loudly. A scream peels out from the front of the huddle of contestants. Probably Miss Sexy Japan, I think it’s safe to say. She claps a few times excitedly before striding gracefully onto the stage.
“And our first runner-up…”
The announcer allows a dramatic pause here, and Miss Sexy Australia’s leaning forward so far I don’t know how she’s still standing on her feet.
“Miss Sexy Australia!”
The crowd is going nuts for her, but after the announcement, Miss Sexy Australia focuses her glare right back at me, like she’s not satisfied with first runner-up, and it’s somehow my fault.
Does Miss Sexy Australia think I’m one of the fucking judges or something? I smile and gesture for her to get the fuck out on stage. Miss Sexy Australia’s face transforms to a practiced, stately expression just before she marches out on the stage.
Miss Sexy Australia does have her fans—the announcer has to wait a solid minute or so for the cheering to taper off before continuing.
“Well, let’s just get on with it,” I hear. Yeah, let’s. I’m glad it’s almost over.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the new Miss Sexy Universe…Miss Sexy USA, Kara Gilmore!”
Everything goes blank for a moment as soon as I hear my name. The announcer and the roaring crowd suddenly sound so distant.
Honestly, it’s the last fucking thing I was expecting. It wasn’t even a possibility in my mind.
I should be thrilled, right?
It’s not like I didn’t work my ass off for this. Still, I don’t really feel very excited right now. I just kind of feel like I don’t even want to go out there anymore.
I might not want it, but they’re waiting for me. I start walking onto the stage, trying hard to figure out what the fuck I’m supposed to do now.
Kara
Muddled music is playing, I’m surrounded by bright lights, and the crowd goes from sounding kind of loud to fucking deafening once I’m onstage.
I would’ve appreciated this deafening applause after my speech, but I guess the audience has come to accept me now that I’m the winner.
Yep, the winner. Miss Sexy fucking Universe. That’s me, apparently.
I won’t deny it—I dedicated my life to preparing for this shit, at least for a while. All that time, all that work...I think about my adorably determined past self, grinding away, with the goal of winning a naked beauty pageant.
I stop halfway across the stage. I try to look at the audience, but there’s a blinding spotlight on me.
Now that I’m right in the thick of it, in the culmination of all that effort, I consider what goal that the old Kara, working so hard to prepare for a beauty pageant, had in mind.
Was this it?
Bright lights, cameras, a whole lot of fucking eyes on me while someone waits for me with a tiara and a fake smile—was this the dream of past Kara?
More importantly, is this the dream of the present Kara? Because I’m supposed to be fucking living it, and I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but whatever dream I’m living right now, I know for sure it’s not mine.
Another thing I’m certain of is that I can’t just fucking stand here in the middle of the stage all day, with everyone staring at me.
I continue my walk to the center of the platform, still not really able to see shit because of the spotlight. I guess they break out the really bright shit for the winner.
I don’t know where I am on the stage now, but I’m formulating a plan to just keep walking all the way until I’m out of view again.
Then, I’ll just leave.
What would happen? It would be pretty fucking funny. At least, I think it would be.
Right in the middle of my planned walk to the other side of the stage, I’m suddenly handed an enormous bouquet of flowers covered in ribbons. I push away another as someone places the crown on my head.
The applause goes from a little less deafening to beyond fucking loud. The spotlight dims enough for me to see, though. It looks like the audience is giving me a standing ovation, which I think they would for whoever won.
I’m gripping the bouquet with one hand. This would be much more comfortable for people wearing clothes. Right now, though, I just want to get rid of it.
I consider throwing it into the audience, like a bride at a wedding, but it’s kind of heavy for that. I settle for holding it out, away from me, dangling it by one of the decorative ribbons.
The spotlight ramps back up to its former, blinding brightness, and somebody—it just looks like a disembodied hand and part of a forearm—hands me a portable microphone.
The music ends, and the audience has fallen dead quiet in anticipation of my words.
“Could somebody please turn down that spotlight? I can’t see a thing.”
Whoever’s in charge of that light immediately turns it down a few notches.
“That’s better,” I continue, “my thanks to the lighting crew. I don’t know if you all can’t see me now, but...whatever. I can see, at least.”
I can see now. I can see the first few rows of the audience, their faces set on me in anticipation.
I can also see the runners-up, both watching me with static grins.
“So,” I begin, holding up the flowers, “I’ve worked really hard for this stuff—these flowers, this crown, the chance to give this speech...At least, that’s what I thought I was working for.”
I let go of the ribbon, and the bouquet falls with a thump. It seems symbolic, but really, it was just uncomfortable.
“I don’t think any of this crap, in itself, means anything to, well, anyone. I know that what it symbolizes means something, but, honestly, I couldn’t tell you what. What I can tell you is what this pageant means to me—or meant to me, back when I was still preparing for it.
“What it meant was a chance to gain confidence in myself. That’s something I struggled with, but not anymore. In that way, it’s been a success story. Those struggles are a thing of the past for me...”
I’m interrupted by some scattered clapping from the audience.
“Hold on.” I hold up my hand, stopping the clappers. “Like I was saying, I have overcome those struggles, and I’ve gained more confidence in myself than I’ve ever had.”
I scan the crowd to see their reactions, but no one is making a sound. “So, it has worked, in that way,” I continue. “But, in another way, all that meaning attached to the crown, now it’s just gone for me.”
I pause to let the crowd murmur and grumble. It’s the first time anyone’s said anything like that in the history of the pageant, I’m sure.
The grumbling dies down. The faces I can see in the audience are still watching me with rapt attention, which is nice, but I’m finishing this fucking speech no matter what.
“When this all meant something to me, which it did until recently, it meant celebrating something. I know it’s a competition, but to me, it meant celebrating beauty—the beauty of being who I felt I could be...the beauty of who I know I am.
“I know that now, and I know my body is part of that, no matter how I much I weigh. Still, this pageant became a goal to work towards, to feel better about myself. As a future goal, it worked. As a present reality, it sucks.”
There’s more grumbling, and I take a look over at the runners-up to see how they’re taking this. Miss Sexy Japan is listening politely, and she’s dropped her fake smile. Miss Sexy Australia is still grinning, but her grin is becoming much less convincing at this point.
I turn back to the audience, now that they’ve shut their yaps again, and continue.
“Celebrating my own beauty, and my own body, with the men I care about, has been one of the best things to ever happen to me. But competing in this pageant has not been part of that celebration. It’s been degrading and gross. This whole thing...it’s not celebrating, it’s commodifying, and it’s objectifying.”
I stop, waiting for more muttered complaints from the crowd, but there’s only
silence.
“Any meaning the crown had is gone. I want nothing to do with it. What I do want is to continue doing what makes me happy with the men I love.”
I pick up the bouquet by its ribbons and hold it away from me. I look at the runners-up, and the look on Miss Sexy Australia’s face is becoming undeniably pained.
“I’m rejecting the crown,” I state clearly, addressing the first runner-up directly. A bright, real smile takes over Miss Sexy Australia’s face when she finally realizes that, yes, this means the crown is hers.
The music starts back as Miss Sexy Australia is crowned, and she starts laughing ecstatically. Good for her, but I’ll be ecstatic to be rid of this fucking bouquet.
I take a few steps towards Miss Sexy Australia—now the newly crowned Miss Sexy Universe—carrying the bouquet by its ribbons.
The new Miss Sexy Universe looks thrilled watching me, or rather watching the bouquet make its way towards her.
After I take only a few steps in her direction, the new Miss Sexy Universe steps forward to get her bouquet a little faster, but she hits a snag when she loses her footing and falls flat on her face.
The crowd lets out a collective groan, and, once again I give up, dropping the bouquet and walking back offstage to spend some quality time with Chase and Eric.
Kara
“I’m queen of the world!” I yell out, leaning forward on the big glass window before me while Chase and Eric hold my arms behind my back, motherfuckin’ Titanic-style.
“Sexy queen of the world.” Eric correct me as we feel the tower around us catch in the wind and sway.
“Our queen,” Chase adds. “All fuckin’ ours.”
And look, babe—I know the title isn’t official, and I know it’s not technically the same as Miss Sexy Universe—but I’m pretty happy with it just the same.
I’m wearing a tiny little pink kimono that’s tied with a thick, darker pink band of silk around my waist. There’s a pair of chopsticks holding my long, thick hair in a massive bun at the back of my head, and I’ve even got two cute little circles of pink blush, Harajuku-style, painted on my cheeks.
We’re at the top of the Tokyo SkyTree, for which Chase and Eric handed out huge wads of Japanese yen to get the rest of the tourists to vacate tonight. The floor and ceiling are lit up with a beautiful blue neon glow, and the whole of Tokyo is sprawled out and lit up beneath us, totally ours for the taking.
The pageant might be over, but our fun here in Japan is just starting. I can fucking feel it, babe! Ditching the Miss Sexy Universe pageant might have been the end of one story, but tonight, there’s an even better tale just fucking beginning.
“Careful, Kara,” Eric says, pulling me back away from the window. It bubbles out from the SkyTree’s walkway here on the observation deck, so when you lean against the glass, it’s almost like you’re suspended over the entire city.
It’s like walking on air—which is exactly how much fucking life feels right now.
When I’m pulled back away from the glass, Chase and Eric’s arms welcome me, enveloping me completely, and that’s a feeling that’s even better than weightlessness. It’s solid, firm, and fucking real.
When they hold me, it doesn’t matter where we are. Their bodies feel like home.
Still, being on top of the fucking world in this SkyTree thing is still pretty fucking cool anyway.
“Mmm,” I moan as Chase and Eric’s lips dip to my neck. They’re kissing me on either side, pressing their lips hard against the delicate skin just above my collar bones like they’re trying to take my pulse with their tongues. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you boys were angling for something right now.”
“We are,” Chase growls, sinking his teeth into my neck.
“Definitely,” Eric agrees, doing the same.
I gasp, leaning into their roughness and letting them have at me.
What can I say? My men are nothing if not direct.
The pink silk sash at my waist is pulled away, letting the robe fall open around me. It reveals my body to Chase and Eric in all of it’s flushed, tightly muscled, well-oiled glory. I don’t think there’s any denying it at this point—I’ve got a bod so hot, curvaceous, and taut that even Kim Kardashian would lose her mind trying to replicate it.
My tits are big and bouncy. My nipples are dark pink and rock fucking hard, just begging to be licked and sucked and teased.
My waist is tiny. Like, tiny enough that when Chase holds it with one hand and Eric holds it on the other side, their fingers meet in the middle. Although, to give them credit—they do have pretty fucking big hands.
My hips are broad, my ass is shaped just like a juicy peach, and my thighs are as toned as they’ll ever be. The gap between them is the perfect size for Chase and Eric’s free hands to slide between, smoothing up and down my skin.
And boy, does their touch ever have lubrication—because I am wet right now. The night is cool, but my pussy feels hot and needy and absolutely fucking soaked. I’m so wet, my slick little slit is drooling right down my thighs and dripping with want.
Chase and Eric use their fingers to scoop up mouthfuls of my honey. They stare up at me with desire as they suck them clean.
“Do you want us, Kara?” Eric asks.
“Fucking looks like she does,” Chase assesses, licking my juices off his fingers and going in for seconds.
“I do,” I profess, humping Chase’s hand—then Eric’s—as they tease my pussy with their fingertips. “Honestly, I really fucking do. Fuck me, guys. Please!”
“You sure that’s not just our mind control cum talking?” Eric asks.
I laugh, but when I look down at him, he looks dead fucking serious.
Ugh. Just for the sake of his peace of mind, I consider it.
Jeez. After everything we’ve been through, he sure is worried that maybe all the things I feel for him aren’t actually real.
I’ve been off the Protein Plus shakes for a while now—long enough that I can’t even imagine that any of their effects are still in my system. I’m not even sure if it was ever the Protein Plus that was making me so fucking horny at all.
Exercise is supposed to come with an increased libido—as is weight loss. That, combined with my insane natural attraction to Chase and Eric—and the fact that I constantly have them at my beck and call, free to tease them and suck them and have them fuck me anytime I want…
I wouldn’t be fucking surprised if this whole time, it wasn’t just pheromones and true love.
Maybe the Protein Shakes exacerbated that a little—but since my men were always around to make me come and blow their loads in my mouth whenever I wanted, I certainly never fucking minded.
Like, babe, I have two tall, buff, insanely handsome billionaire boyfriends with matching 12-inch dicks, and they both fucking love me.
You don’t need to be brainwashed with super cum to know that that’s pretty much as good as it gets.
“I’m sure,” I tell them with the utmost certainty. “I fucking love you. I love you both, okay? No tricks, no brainwashing, no—oh!”
Before I can even finish, they’re lifting me up off the ground like I weigh nothing and sitting me on the little guardrail that separates the walkway from the windows. I giggle, pushing my knees together and playing coy, but they’re not having any of that.
Immediately, they pull my knees apart and spread them as wide as they can go.
Which is pretty fucking wide—not to brag or anything, but by the time they have me where they want me, I’m pretty much doing the splits while I sit atop the guardrail, flashing them my dripping wet, throbbing cunt and bathed in blue neon light.
“What do you want, Kara?” Eric asks me.
“Tell your men what you fuckin’ need,” Chase adds.
“I wanna come!” I yell with the world’s biggest fucking grin on my face. “I want you to make me fucking come!”
“And where do you want us?”
“On your knees,” I comm
and, feeling totally fucking mad with power. “Lick my wet cunt until I’m cumming against your mouths!”
They obey. It’s so fucking sexy when they just give me what I want—which is them, both of them, as often as possible and in as big of doses as I can get. I know they’re stronger than me. They usually know better than even I do what I really need. But for once, they’re not making me fight them for what I want.
Instead, they just drop to their knees and start taking turns licking my smooth, sticky slit with their hot, wet tongues.
It’s only as I’m approaching the first orgasm that I realize in between licks, they’re both fumbling with something in their pockets. The way my pussy is throbbing and aching and threatening to splooge all over their gorgeous faces combined with the natural sway of the tower as it moves with the wind outside is enough to make me dizzy…
But I’d have to be pretty fucking blind not to notice that they’ve both pulled out little pink velvet boxes from the pockets of their suit jackets.
Two fucking guesses what’s inside, babes.
I know in a goddamn instant, even before they flip them open to show off my consolation prize.
“Oh my god,” I say as Eric sucks my clit into his mouth one last time.
“Thought you might like them,” Chase says, pushing Eric aside.
“Oh my god,” I moan as Chase sucks my clit into his mouth.
It sends me over the edge, and I’m still fucking orgasming when Eric says the magic words.
“Kara Gilmore, will you marry me?”
“YES!” I scream as the SkyTree sways with the force of my orgasm. “YES! YES! YES!”
“And will you be my bride?” Chase asks, not to be outdone.
“YES! OH MY GOD, YES! YES!”
I have the biggest smile of sheer fucking disbelief on my lips. My cunt is still throbbing, my head is full of fuck hormones, and my lungs feel like they’re either going to fill with enough air to float away on with every breath I draw in, or like maybe they’re just going to explode.
I slump forward, collapsing under the complete overwhelmingness of it all, and Chase and Eric are there, as always, to take me in their arms as I fall.
