The Daddy Games: A Filthy MFM Romance

by JB Duvane

  “That’s true,” Brea says as she looks around the room. “So have you checked this place out?”

  “Yeah, there’s some bathrooms over there and those two doors lead to empty rooms, and through there is the cafeteria. It looks like they stocked up on a whole bunch of those pre-preprepared delivered meals. You want to check it out?”

  “Yeah, I’m hungry.”

  We spend the rest of the day speculating on what the hell this place is and why we’re all packed into this gym. Some girls say they think we’re going to be shipped off as sex slaves, but I’m sure they’re just trying to get as many girls to leave as they can so they win the prize money.

  I can barely sleep through the night, and not because I’m sleeping in my sleeping bag on a yoga mat. I’ve slept in way worse places, like cramped up in my car. I can’t sleep because I keep hearing that voice in my head. I picture that friend of my dad’s, the one with the amazing eyes, standing behind me and telling me what to do right in my ear. I’ve never felt excitement course through my entire body the way it does when I think those thoughts.

  Eventually I do drift off, but even then my dreams are filled with the exact same thing—those eyes and that voice.

  When we wake up the next morning, Josh is in the room. He’s worried that he is going to scare the girls, so he keeps saying ‘There’s a man in the room, ladies,’ while he tries to wake everyone up. He seems like a really nice guy. When we’re finally all awake, he calls off girl’s names that he has listed on a clip board, then gives each of us a number.

  “This is the order that you’ll be taking showers this morning, as well as your order for the competition. Everything needs to be picked up and put into that room over there by nine a.m. I’m sure you’re all hungry, and there are a bunch of pre-made meals in the cafeteria, as well as yogurt and fruit, so knock yourselves out in there. But just make sure, if your number is twenty or under, that you’re ready to go by nine a.m. If your number is twenty-one or over, you don’t have to rush.”

  I sit up on my yoga mat and watch as the sea of girls who are spread across the gym floor all start to get up. “Wow, there’s a lot of girls in here.”

  “Yeah, I was one of the last ones in line and I heard that guy talking. He told the girls who were still out in the parking lot that there were already one-hundred girls in here and that the producers didn’t realize that there would be so much interest. The guy took their names and said that they would be contacted first for the next competition.”

  “There’s going to be another one?”

  “Well, they’d be stupid not to. I mean, if there’s this many girls interested.”

  My number is thirty-five, so I have a little while to wait. I let a bunch of other girls go into the shower before me, and thankfully there’s still plenty of hot water when I get in there. When I’m done I gather all my stuff together and store it in one of the empty rooms. It’s actually kind of nice not having anything valuable to worry about. It feels really free.

  After Brea and I eat some yogurt there really isn’t much to do, so we just follow the other girls out into the hall and sit on the floor. We talk to each other and some of the other girls, but after a while I start to wish I had my phone.

  “I feel like I’m going through withdrawal,” I say to Brea.

  “No kidding. This is painful. I’d love to check my feeds but I would absolutely kill to see how much action this competition is getting. I seriously can’t believe they’re live streaming the entire thing.”

  “Yeah, it’s crazy! I wonder where they’ve advertised.”

  “I don’t know, but even though the sleeping arrangements are pretty rinky-dink, these guys do seem to know what they’re doing. I mean, even that is pretty smart. They don’t have to pay a thing to put all these girls up. I’d say they’ve probably advertised anywhere online where you’ll find dudes looking at naked girls.”

  “Which is pretty much everywhere,” I say, and we both laugh.

  Every time the door to the gym—which they now refer to as the competition room—opens, the music that’s playing over the sound system blasts out into the hall. Right now I swear the song that’s playing is the theme to the Mortal Combat video game. I’ve heard that thing a zillion times while Danny played it in the living room and it makes me laugh that they’re playing it in the room.

  Brea’s number is twenty-two and Josh, the guy who’s been making sure the girls go into the room in the right order, tells her she’s up in a couple minutes. I’ve seen other guys around here, doing things like bringing boxes into the cafeteria and doing checks on the cameras, but Josh is always the one who talks to the girls. I’m glad because I like him. I want to ask him a bunch of questions, but when things first got started he seemed kind of stressed out. But as each girl has gone into the gym, he’s become more and more relaxed.

  Josh has a little speech down. He tells every girl that goes through the door that they’re going to have five minutes of camera time. Right now he’s giving his speech to Breanna and I’m right next to her. “So this round is gonna knock a lot of girls out. Basically you’re gonna wanna do whatever it takes to get votes. And that’s entirely up to you. You can keep your clothes on or you can take them off … use props … whatever. It’s your call. So you go in the room and you’ll see an area that’s lit by a spotlight. That’s the stage. When you walk in you go right to the center of that stage and start dancing. The cameras are already gonna be going, and you’ll be able to see what you look like on all of the TVs if you want. But don’t stand there and stare at yourself. You’re going to be streaming live from the second you get to the stage area. Do you want a mask to wear during your show?”

  “No, I don’t need one.”

  “Okay, any questions?”

  “I don’t think so,” Brea says. “She widens her eyes as she looks down at me. “Oh my God, I’m really nervous.”

  “You’re gonna do great, Brea!” I say, punching the air. The door opens and another blast of bassy hip-hop spills out into the hallway. It sounds like Wiley or Dizzee Rascal or some other English rapper. A skinny blonde girl opens the door and comes out with beads of sweat dripping down her face. She also looks a little disoriented.

  “All right, you’re on.”

  When Josh closes the door again almost all the sound disappears, except for a steady vibration that permeates the floor underneath me. He gets the next girl ready and gives her the same instructions, and before I know it, Brea is already coming back out through the door. As soon as she steps out into the hallway, Josh pushes the next girl into the room.

  “Wow, that was fast. You’re done already?”

  Brea slides down the wall and sits next to me on the floor. “That seemed fast to you? It felt like I was in there forever. Man, it was really surreal being in there in the dark with a spotlight in my face and all those strobe lights. I couldn’t think of anything to do with my body and I’m pretty sure I just flailed around like a total loser.”

  “No, you didn’t! I’m sure you were fine.”

  “I don’t think so, Aubrey. Man, coming back out here is weird. I feel like my head is spinning,” she says as she puts her head in her hands.

  “So what did you do?”

  “I don’t know. I honestly have no idea what went on in there. I think I kind of panicked once the realization hit me that I was on camera in front of potentially thousands of people—dudes who were looking at me and were voting. I think I just swayed around a little at first. I must’ve looked like a complete idiot. But it’s so weird because there’s no reference to anything. I mean, you don’t actually know that people are watching because you can’t see them or hear them. There was a part of me that wanted to do crazy stuff, like take my clothes off, but I didn’t really feel like I had any incentive to. I don’t know, it’s hard to explain. It seems like it would be better if there was a real audience, even if it was only a video of an audience playing on one of those TVs.”

  Josh comes and
stands in front of us. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. I’ll tell the guys. I think they’ll be interested to hear that.” He makes a note on the paper on a clip board he’s carrying around with him.

  “So there really are two guys?” Brea asks.

  Josh looks at her like he isn’t sure if he’s supposed to answer her question, but then nods his head.

  “What do they look like?”

  “I don’t know if I’m supposed to be talking about this. It’s confidential information—“

  “Oh, come on! Just nod your head again. Are they hot?”

  “How the hell would I know?” he says with a goofy smile.

  “Bullshit,” Brea hisses. “You have eyes. You can tell if a man is attractive or not. Are they couple of big fat dumpy dudes?”

  Josh rolls his eyes and smiles at her, then slides down the wall so that he’s at the same level as Brea and I. He leans in and talks to us like he’s telling us a big secret. “No, they’re not a couple of big fat dumpy dudes.”

  “Okay, if you had to choose one profession to describe them, would it be? A. a pilot, B. a garbageman, C. an accountant, or D. an unemployed loser that lives with his mother?”

  Josh laughs out loud then leans his head back against the wall. “Well, okay, if I had to pick one out of those four options, I would say pilot.”

  “Seriously? Wow. Both of them? That sounds pretty hot. Would you say they’re as hot as you?” she asks, clearly flirting with him.

  His face turns red and he looks down, but he’s grinning from ear to ear. “You’re killing me, here. I don’t know what to say to that.” He looks back up at Brea and doesn’t stop smiling. He seems like a really sweet guy and I wonder who he is and what they’re all doing here. I want to ask him, but I don’t. I’m too nervous and I don’t want to interrupt what’s going on between the two of them.

  “Okay, are they as nice as you?” she asks.

  He seems a little more comfortable answering that question. “Yeah, they’re really good guys. I’ve been working with them since the beginning … for about five years. They went to college together, hang out together, owned this business together. They do a lot of stuff together.”

  “Owned? As in past tense? Do you mean the contest or what’s in this building? Cause this place doesn’t look like a porn studio to me.”

  “Uh … I’m really not supposed to be talking about the guys like this. I could get into trouble.”

  “Okay, okay,” Brea says as she puts her hand on Josh’s arm so he doesn’t get up and leave. “I’ll keep my questions hypothetical. So, are we talking a pilot on a private jet that flies to Tahiti type of pilot, or a pilot that is about to retire from forty years working for a failing, economy airline type of pilot?”

  Josh laughs out loud again. I have a feeling he’s starting to like her too. “Private jet. They’re both definitely the private jet kinda guys. One of them has a Lamborghini.”

  “Get the fuck out of here,” Brea says, then looks at me with huge eyes. “Damn. Now I’m bummed that I didn’t take all my clothes off and swallow a king-sized dildo down my throat in there. You better step up your audition number, Aubrey. You need to win this thing.”

  “We’re both gonna win, Brea.”

  “I don’t think so, sweetie. I pretty much bombed in there. But I’ll be rooting for you, though. When I get home I’ll find the stream and I’ll spend a bunch of money voting for you.”

  “Well, I don’t even have a dildo or anything like that with me. But even if I had one, I don’t know if I could bring myself to use it. Are any of the other girls doing things like that?” I ask Josh.

  “Yeah, I’ve seen a couple girls getting down and dirty in there. Didn’t you see the chick that walked out of the room with no clothes on a few minutes ago?”

  “No,” I say. “I haven’t really been paying attention. I guess I’m too nervous.”

  “She strutted right past you guys and nothing but a pair of platform stripper heels. She had those huge, fake tits. You didn’t see her?”

  “No. I feel like I missed out now,” Brea says in a slightly dejected voice.

  “There’s no way I’m gonna win this,” I say to her. “I have don’t have huge boobs and my ass is pretty narrow and I don’t think I want to take my clothes off yet. I just want to go in there and dance.”

  “Then just do that,” Josh says. “Fake tits probably aren’t going to win this contest if you ask me. I mean, the votes count, but they’re not the only thing.”

  “What you mean?” I ask.

  “Well, the two guys that are running the contest are the ones that will make the final decision. So, for each event they’re gonna take the viewer votes into consideration, and that will help with eliminating the contestants, but that’s definitely not going to be the deciding factor. In the end it’s going to be those two that decide who wins.” Josh jumps up and gives the next girl his speech, then pushes her into the room when the door opens. After the door is closed again, he slides back down next to Brea. Then he continues to jump up and down whenever it’s time for a new girl to go in, but he seems to want to stay sitting next to her on the floor.

  “Looks like you’re up next,” he says, checking his phone and the paper on the clipboard in his hand. “You ready?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  He gives me the same instructions he’s given to every one of the other girls, but suddenly everything is just a blur. And when the door opens up and a topless girl with huge boobs walks out, I swear my legs turn to spaghetti. I put the doll mask on and step into the room, and when the door closes behind me, it takes every ounce of strength in my body to keep moving my legs forward.

  The music is pounding and the strobe lights are flashing and everything seems to move in slow motion, just like Breanna said. I start to relax a little when I realize that I know the song that’s playing. Bonfire by Childish Gambino. It was one of Danny’s favorite songs. He used to play it all the time. But I also have it on a dance playlist that I put on when I’m alone. It’s one of those songs I can really feel and get lost in.

  I love to dance so much. It’s one of my favorite things to do in the world. But Danny would never take me dancing. I didn’t really care, though. Because when I turn up the music really loud and close my eyes, I can imagine that I’m in a dance club. I imagine that I’m surrounded by hundreds of people and there are lights flashing and we’re all gyrating together to the beat of the song that’s playing. And that’s exactly how it feels as I cross the room to the stage. Like I just walked into a dance club.

  Before I realize what’s going on, I’m under the bright spotlight. I close my eyes and immediately picture myself surrounded by hundreds of people and I forget that there’s a camera on me. I forget that hundreds or thousands of men are watching me, I forget that I’m taking part in a contest and I forget that the girl just before me had taken off her shirt for all of them. As soon as I get lost in the music, nothing else matters.

  Bonfire was more than halfway over when I walked into the room, and a huge smile spreads across my face when the next song starts up. Everything is mixed together, but through that snare drum beat in Bonfire, I hear the first words of one of my all time favorite dance songs.

  Music make you lose control…

  Music make you lose control…

  My body starts to move in a way that only happens when I’m in my dance club fantasy like this. I’ve never tried to copy the hip hop moves that they do in the videos. I just feel the music flow throughout my body and I move with it. I let the sound of the base and the sound of Missy Elliott’s voice flow through me, and get completely lost in it. I have no idea how long I’ve been dancing when I feel a hand grab my arm.

  “You’re time’s up!” some guy yells at me over the music. I nod at him and start to walk, but he grabs my arm again. I look up at him and he’s smiling at me. “Door’s this way!” he says, pointing in the opposite direction. He takes me by the arm and helps me over to
the door, and when it opens, I’m temporarily blind.

  Graham

  I’m nervous as hell when we go live at nine a.m. And I know Kyle is too. We have no idea how this is going to go down, logistically or financially. We’ve moved everything into my office so that we could monitor everything from one place, but I have a feeling it’s for moral support too.

  Neither one of us went home last night. I slept on my couch but I’m not sure Kyle got any sleep at all. We’ve both been glued to our monitors since before the streaming started, but once we’re live we’re both practically holding our breath waiting to see what happens. Through the early advertising we’ve managed to get about one-hundred subscribers already, but we haven’t had anyone buy the tokens in volume yet.

  “So, remind me again, you put advertisements that link to the webpage on how many sites?” I can tell Kyle is nervous. This was his idea and now that there’s no turning back, I think he’s experiencing some of the panic I was going through in the beginning.

  “We’ve got banner ads on every free and paid porn site that I could find with general searches on the adult search engines. I’ve got paid ads on every adult blog I could find that accepts them, as well as sites that sell sex toys.”

  “We’re monetizing quite a few of those with affiliate links too, right?”

  “Yeah, we’ve got the affiliate links up on at least fifty sites, but that’s not going to bring in a ton of money.”

  “But everything counts, Graham. We have to pull money in from every conceivable place we can, otherwise—“

  “We will … we are. Relax, we just started. Wait to see how things go for the first hour before you freak out.” I sound so together, but I’m freaking out inside just as much as he is. I continue. “I posted to every sex-related subreddit I could find and every sex-related forum that was linked from every single site I visited. And after we have some footage I’m going to make some gifs and get some ads up at sites that stream adult content through apps or to mobile and home devices.”